


Tales From Another Archive

by LadyNocheEterna



Series: Cobwebs in the Archives [2]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Archivist!Sasha, Multi, No beta we kayak like Tim, Web!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNocheEterna/pseuds/LadyNocheEterna
Summary: There was once a woman who needed to solve riddles and collect knowledge like she needed the air she breathed.There was once a man who, as a child, was an avid reader who feared spiders.There was once a man that watched as the younger brother he adored got replaced.There was once a man who belonged to a family shrouded in fog.They all work for the Magnus Institute.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Series: Cobwebs in the Archives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1867330
Comments: 72
Kudos: 278





	1. Infestation

“Next time you ask me out for lunch I’m just going to say _no_ , James” the man complains, letting his head fall back against the bricked wall.

“Tim, shut up” she shots back, adjusting her glasses, pushing them further up the bridge of her nose “we’re about to be murdered by a worm woman, could you all least tone down the complaining? Plus, to be fair, I didn’t ask you out, if anything I asked you _in_ , because we didn’t leave the archives”.

“I was just trying to lighten the mood, Sash”.

“I mean, _murdered_ is a bit of a strong word, isn’t it?” the other man in the room offers them, a nervous smile in his features. Then, as if realising something, his face falls. “Oh, my Lord… Jon!”

“He is fine, Martin, he went out for lunch” Tim tries to calm him down, picking at the one of the pockmark scabs forming out of the dried blood in his forearm, Sasha smacks his hand to get him to stop. In a show of maturity, Tim Stoker sticks his tongue out at her, making her rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, I bet he is fine” she agrees nonetheless.

* * *

Jon is not fine.

 _Why did I took this shitty job?_ , a quick reconsideration of his life choices reminds him the **how** but not the **why**. Whatever, point is, he is having an horrible day, first, his alarm clock didn’t go off, reason why he was almost late at work, then it turns out he forgot his lunch in the fridge, which prompted him to have to go buy it outside, and now that he is back in the archives, Jane Prentiss is there, in all her rotten glory, and, luckily, with her back turned, not noticing him it seems.

Maybe it will be like those American dinosaurs movies and her vision is based on movement, maybe if he stays _very_ , _very_ still, she won’t notice and won’t send her deathly little minions to kill him. Maybe he can even move extremely slow and reach the little room Martin is occupying and he will be safe. Wait… and where are the others? Oh, great, another worry, can he still save them, does he have time?

A door opens, shaking him out of his nervous, adrenaline fuelled thoughts.

“Jon!” is all the warning he gets before being thrown to the floor by a very nervous Martin.

The commotion has caused Jane to turn and her dead eyes are set on him.

Shit.

* * *

“Tim! I have signal!” Sasha cries triumphantly, rising her phone in the air. The dark haired man turns to look at her from his spot by the door, looking at the archives. The phone buzzes in her hand with the silly ringtone she has for Martin. “Martin??” she asks, struggling to put the phone on speaker and keep it close to her ear, then she gestures for Tim to come closer and listen. “Martin, are you alright?”

“ _Yes, Sasha, we’re fine!_ ” a sigh of relief escapes her lips and Tim’s as well. “ _Jon and I managed to outrun Prentiss, are you and Tim safe?”_

“Yes, we won’t move from here! Where are you two?”

“ _We tried to run and alert Elias but we ended up in Artefact Storage, at least we were able to ring the fire alarm, the others should be leaving now…”_

“Alright, try not to look or touch anything, okay?”

“ _Uh…_ ”

“Martin?”

Then the line went dead

* * *

“Sasha told us not to _look_ or _touch_ anything, Jon” Martin reminds the man for the umpteenth time, as expected, his companion doesn’t seem to listen and keeps examining an old wooden table with a web pattern, the red headed man tries not to look too much at it, he already got stuck into a trance just by looking at it and the other man had to pull him out of it. “Jon, I don’t like that table” he insists.

“Fine, Martin, I will leave it alone” he accepts and Martin sighs with relief. “Looks like we will be here for a while”, surprisingly enough, the dark skinned man sits next to him. “Do you have any ideas as to what should we do next?”

“Maybe… uh, maybe we can try to go warn Elias?”

“No” the sharp negative is almost automatic, it makes Martin flinch. “I managed to ring the fire alarm on the way here; Elias must be out of the building by now with the rest of the Institute’s employees”.

They fall into an uncomfortable silence, well, uncomfortable for Martin, at least. He knows Jon probably doesn’t care; he is probably even lamenting the fact that they’re stuck together for Lord knows how long. He sighs. Leave it to him to fall in love with a man who _dislikes_ him at best (let’s be honest, Jon probably hates him, but Martin is a very optimistic person). It’s stupid, he knows, even if he usually doesn’t fall for guys like that. It’s isn’t a physical thing either that draws him to the man, Jon is way shorter than he is, already has a hint of grey at the temples, which makes him look much more older than he is and his librarian aesthetic doesn’t help much.

The day they met, however, Jon had been rather _charming_ ; they both had arrived early at the archive that first day and the shorter man introduced himself with a firm handshake and a smile. Later that day, he had seen Jon _laugh_ for the first time, it wasn’t a full laugh, but rather a quiet chuckle at something silly Sasha had said. Martin really liked the way Jon’s brown eyes lighted up when he smiled like that.

“…Martin?” the man himself called, pulling him out of his daydreams. He sounds almost concerned and Martin’s heart seems to stop, then beat faster at the way he frowns in thoughtful consideration. “You’re a bit quiet, are you okay? None of the worms got you?”

“Ah…? No, I don’t think so”, god, he can feel his cheeks heating up, how much more pathetic can he be?

“Good”.

They go back to the silence.

The room seems to be growing warm; at first Martin thinks is because of his own embarrassment that he feels like that, and he refuses to take his jumper off, but soon Jon unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and starts rolling up his sleeves.

_Oh._

Jonathan Sims, most serious and professional person he knows, has a _tattoo_ on his inner left forearm. He can’t help but stare, damn, he did have a thing for blokes with tattoos back on his teenage years, and it seems he still does. Is a simple design, a completely black spider with spindly legs, hanging from a thin thread that goes all the way up until it's hidden by his sleeve. Jon clears his throat and the freckled man notices that, despite himself, he had been staring. Well, damn.

“This is why that table didn’t affect me, but you won’t tell the others, would you?”

“No, I-…” then he takes in the whole sentence, “wait, what?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know, Martin” there’s a tone of teasing in his voice, a soft smile in his features. Martin blinks at him, it’s already hard to think as it is with him staring, but when Jon smiles at him like that… then things click into place and he averts his gaze from Jon, cheeks burning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jon. I think the rush of adrenaline messed you up”, he tries then to change the subject, but he can’t think of a topic. It’s not possible, he knows, there’s got to be a different explanation as to what the other man is talking about.

Ever since he started working in the Magnus institute, Martin had known that there are powers beyond human compression, entities that are well past the _supernatural_ definition. As to how he acquired that knowledge is another story in it’s own, point is, there’s no way Jon knows about it, unless… no, that isn’t possible either, or is it?

“ _Which patron do you serve?_ ”

Now he turns to look at Jon, completely sure that there’s no use in hiding his shock, that he will see it anyways. He had been told someone may ask him a question like that, but he never thought…

“Who told you?”

“Nobody had to, I knew it, right from the moment I first saw you”, Jon is still smiling and Martin almost wants him to go back to his usual frown, anything but this. “Tim and Sasha…?”

“They don’t know” he quickly tells, “and I would prefer to keep it that way”.

“They won’t hear a word from me, I promise”. And Martin believes him. He shrugs, and then gets up, offering a hand to Martin. He takes it. If their hands stay connected a little longer than it’s preferred, neither of them mentions it.

“Oh, um, they don’t even know about the entities, so maybe don’t mention that either?” now Jon looks surprised.

“You mean Sasha…?” Martin gestures for him to go on and his companion clears his throat. “She doesn’t know?”

“Uh, no… why would she?”

Jon doesn’t answer; instead, he turns on his heel and marches straight to the door. Martin tries to stop him from opening the door a bit but fails and resigns himself to peek out from behind Jon; there are some worms in the hallway but not to a worrisome extent. Jane Prentiss is nowhere to be seen, which is good.

“Think you’re ready to make a run for it?”


	2. Back to work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archive team is back to work. Jon receives a visit at the Institute.

A few weeks later, Sasha is walking towards the institute, thermic cup in one hand and mobile phone in the other. Is her first day back to work since the attack and her phone is already buzzing with messages, seems her boys are as excited as she is to be back. She checks their group chat once more as she waits at a corner for the light to change back to green.

 **_Martoo :):_ ** _Already here, the place looks brand new! I will put the kettle to boil so you guys can get something warm to drink once you arrive!_

 **_Tim ‹3:_ ** _Great! I will stop by the bakery then!_

 **_Jon:_ ** _We are supposed to be working_

 **_Jon:_ ** _But if you’re okay with it, I can also take some cookies my flatmate made?_

 **_Sasha:_ ** _Yesss! Bring on the pastries AND the cookies! See you guys in a bit!_

When she finally makes into the basement, is very warm and she sighs, taking off her heavy coat and folding it on the crook of his elbow. The breakroom is full of chatter and laughter already and it’s impossible to not smile at the sight in front of her, it does contrast against the sombre and dark air that surrounded their little group the last time they saw each other. The greetings don’t wait once she is spotted. Martin gives her a tight hug and states that he is glad to see her. Tim does the same but dares to peck her cheek, right where she knows she has the pockmark shaped scars that they now share and are the only tangible proof they have about what happened. Jon just nods in her direction, she smiles.

After their little tea and snacks, she rubs her hands together in an effort to shake off the remaining crumbs and sugar, and cheerfully announces.

“All right! We’re back to work, boys!”

The day goes slowly, but it’s expected from a job like this, which has been fine for the most part (except for the Prentiss’ attack and the fact that, whole running around in the tunnels and away from the worms, she and Tim found Gertrude Robinson, or what was left of her), even if the first week was a mess, with getting used to work in a different office, with different people and different responsibilities, oh, and let’s not start on the fact that the statements she was supposed to be organizing _cannot_ be transcribed or recorded digitally without the files being corrupted when she checks them again. One of her lovely assistants, Martin, had suggested trying to record it in a tape recorder, _vintage recorder_ he had called it. It’s a tough job, but she prefers it over Artefact Storage any day.

The day continues to pass and, eventually, around lunch she checks her mobile phone.

 **_Dad:_ ** _Hi, Pumpkin! How is it going? Hope you’re taking it easy, is your first day back after all! Love you!_

She smiles at the touchscreen and types a quick response.

 **_Sasha:_ ** _Hi, Dad! Don’t worry; I’m just going over some files, nothing too extreme. My friends and I are keeping each other from pushing ourselves too much; we all came back today, so that part is fine! How are you doing?_

Her father is on his last years as a university professor, he will hopefully retire soon. They keep regularly in touch, talking at least once a week, be it call or text. Dean James is someone who dotes on his only daughter, being a widower and all; her father made sure that Sasha always had all the things she could want a some more, so it was not a surprise when, after the attack, he came all the way to the Institute to see if she was okay. Luckily, they had already retrieved Gertrude’s corpse, so he didn’t saw that part. She took advantage of the opportunity to introduce him to the boys, her _friends_ , they may have been only co-workers before, but after the attack it was hard not to consider them friends. He had been happy to meet them before he took her home once the doctors agreed she was good to go.

* * *

Days pass, then a week.

She finds herself staring at the tape recorder on her desk, chin propped up in one hand as she contemplates. Tim is in her office, sitting across from her, he is quietly waiting for her to finish putting some papers in order, before they head to lunch. Martin and Jon are already out, which Tim commented on, since they seem to be closer to each other now, which makes Sasha smile. Martin had quietly confessed one night while out drinking with her that he had kind of a crush on Jon, which she found a bit cute, is nice to see that at least there’s one person getting their relationship somewhere.

She peeks at Tim over the rim of her round glasses, yeah, wouldn’t she like that as well?

“What are you laughing at? Another of those cats meme Martin keeps sending you?”

“You’re awfully serious today, boss…” Her face falls. She sighs and takes off her glasses to rub at her eyes, which makes her vision blur for a bit. She blinks and puts the glasses back on. “Sasha? Are you okay?”

“Not really”, she admits, “after Gertrude…”

“Shh, it’s fine, the police will find whoever did it, I’m sure”, his places his hand on top of hers and smiles encouragingly.

“You saw her”.

“I did”.

“She was shot… three times…”

He squeezes her hand lightly.

“I know. You would be a great detective, sure, but let the professionals handle it. All you will achieve is stressing yourself out if you think too much about it; I know things have been strange lately…”

“You mean you notice it too?”

Tim stares at her for a few thoughtful moments before pursuing his lips.

“Sasha… after what happened… I think it’s normal for things to be a bit… off. Y’know what? Why don’t we leave this conversation for another time, let’s go get lunch”.

The woman nods, leaving her stack of papers neatly on the desk and then getting up. However, before she can grab her coat, they hear Martin announcing from the stairs that he is back. There’s no sign of Jon and when asked, the redhead says he hadn’t seen him, yes they went out together but once outside the Institute they went their separate ways, he should be back soon, he guesses, after all he did ask Martin to bring something for him too.

“So, shall we go?” Martin says. “If you guys don’t me mind joining you two…” he adds, like an afterthought.

“Of course we do not mind, Martin!” Tim hurries to say. “Let’s go, I’m hungry”.

Once they exit the basement, they come across Jon, who is standing next to a petite black woman with bleached blond hair in a frilly blouse, a black plaid skirt and a coat that look like they are all hand me downs while they both talk to Elias in front of the door to Artefact Storage. Elias’ face is unreadable. Unable to look away they just stand there, until Elias leaves, stopping a moment to look at them and nod in their direction.

Jon and the woman approach them, she is smiling.

“Hello! You must be Jon’s friends!” she cheerfully says.

“Sure we are” Tim answers, amused at this eccentric woman. “Jon hadn’t told us he had such a pretty friend”.

“This is actually my sister, Tim”, Jon grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Oh, shush you! You didn’t tell me your friend was such a Casanova!” she teases, then turns to the other two. “You must be Martin and Sasha, I have heard a lot about you both, is so nice to finally meet you in person! Like Jon said, I’m his sister, my name is Annabelle Cane”.

“Nice to meet you” Sasha says, shaking the woman’s hand, “but, uh, why do you guys have different surnames?”

“It’s a little tradition of the foster home we grew up in, we keep the surnames of our biological families”, Jon explains with a shrug. “So, you guys mind if my sister joins us for lunch?”

Jon is very reserved as to his personal life outside of work, so Sasha guesses is no surprise that they’re finding out just now that he has a sister and that they grew up in a foster home. Baby steps, she guesses. Plus, Anabelle is actually really nice and funny, so there’s that. Is curious, is like the siblings are complete opposites, where Jon is quiet and just content to listen, Annabelle is loud and has no problem monopolizing the conversation. When it comes to looks, they both do share a resemblance despite the fact that they’re not related by blood, they share the same dark skin and similar mischievous brown eyes.

“Oh, hey, that’s a nice pin you have there” she can’t help but comment, upon realizing the little gold and purple spider that is attached to the lapel of Anabelle’s vintage blouse. “If it wasn’t for the rhinestone, I would have thought it was real”.

“Oh, it was a gift from Jon for my birthday!” she answers, as she links her arm to her brother’s who just smiles, causing Tim to _aww_ at them. “I love it, I always, _always_ wear it, it’s both fashionable and cute!”

“You guys really like spiders, don’t you?” Martin comments.

Upon Sasha’s and Tim’s confused stares, Anabelle gasps, as if scandalized, then demands to know if Jon never showed them his tattoo, which prompts Sasha and Tim to gasp.

“Jonathan Sims, you have a _what_?” 

“You’re legally obliged to show us, Jon, don’t make me fire you”.

“Also, you told Martin but not me and Sash? That’s rude, Sims”.

“If you want me to undress, then take me to dinner first” Jon grunts at them, rolling his eyes.

They finally reach the place where they decided to have lunch at, as they sit on the table, Annabelle speaks again.

“What about you, Martin? Do you like spiders?”

“Oh… well, I-…”

“Yes, he does!” Tim interrupts, feigning exasperation, but he gives a wink and a smile, showing he is only teasing. “When they show up in the office, and I remind you, miss, we work in a basement, there’s _lots_ of them around, Martin insists on putting them outside”.

“They’re vital to the ecosystem, Tim! Also, the ones that have like fur are kind of cute?”

“Oh, my god! You totally need to meet Daisy Jr.!” Anabelle squeals, delighted at that response.

“Who is Daisy Jr.?”

“My pet tarantula” Jon answers, “you can’t meet her now though, she just finished moulting and she will be shy for a couple days, so when she is comfortable in her new skin, I will invite you three over and you can pet her if you want”.

“Cool” Tim manages, not really looking forward to meeting Jon’s _little girl_. “Though the _Junior_ part in the name implies that there’s another Daisy”.

“Um, yeah, but you aren’t ready to meet that one either”.

* * *

Later that night, Jon busies himself with preparing dinner, nothing too elaborate, just some pasta with a basic tomato sauce. Annabelle is carefully setting the table, placing a flower vase at the centre of the small table, moving it slightly until she finds the perfect position. Jon smiles fondly at this, before going back to the pasta, personally he doesn’t care if there’s a vase on the table or not while he eats, but Annabelle does care. His sister, meanwhile takes to taking out two wine glasses and placing them on the table, and then fetches a bottle of red wine.

“Not for me, Anna” he says. “I have work tomorrow”.

She huffs, murmuring something that sounds suspiciously like _you’re not fun_ and _pasta is supposed to be eat accompanied by wine_ and then fills her own glass with wine, she places the remaining one back on the cupboard and replaces it with a regular glass that she fills with water for her brother.

“Do you think Elias will take our… um, _request_ into consideration, Jon?”

“I don’t know”.

“That table is not his, though; he has no right over it”.

He sighs heavily, turning off the stove.

“I know”.

“That… that _thing_ could trap someone else if it gets out, Jon, it shouldn’t be there”.

“I know, Anna”.

They stay in silence for a while; Jon serves two plates of food while Annabelle stares thoughtfully at the wine swirling around in her glass.

“Jon?” he hums in response, “do you think Elias would be a threat to your plan?”

The man places the now full plates on the table.

“I admit the attack from Prentiss was a nuisance, but don’t worry; he won’t be a threat, not for long”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now you know why Jon is less of a paranoid jerk than his canon counterpart at this point of the story. Fun fact: I have a Tumblr where I reblog cute JonMartin and TimSasha fanart and where I post whenever I update this story, it's @Avatar-made-of-butterflies, kudos to you if you get the reference!


	3. Book Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is looking for a particular reading material, Martin tries to help.

**~ [Text conversation between Jonathan Sims and Gerard Delano, Wednesday, 9:37 p.m.] ~**

**Jon:** Hello, Gerry, were you able to find the item we previously discussed?

 **Gerry:** Lmao, we are texting, why are you talking like this is an e-mail to HR?

 **Jon:** Do you have the damn thing or not?

 **Gerry:** wtf, chill, and no, I don’t have it. You asked me to find Robert Smirke’s _Balance and Fear_ , right?

 **Jon:** Yes, I did.

 **Gerry:** Well, it turns out that there should be three remaining copies that made it into our times, because; let me remind you, this book was written in bloody _1835_.

 **Jon:** I’m aware.

 **Gerry:** Good. One of the copies is a Leitner, which you know I refuse to touch without a ten-foot pole if it’s not to turn into ashes.

 **Jon:** I understand, and to be honest, I myself prefer we don’t resort to that cursed library, what about the two other copies?

 **Gerry:** You’re going to love this, according to my research; Smirke also delivered personalized copies to two of his close friends: Jonah Magnus and Mordechai Lukas.

 **Jon:** There’s a copy at the Institute?

 **Gerry:** Is a possibility, yes.

 **Jon:** Great, thanks, Gerry.

 **Gerry:** No problem. See you on Friday for a jar or two?

 **Jon:** Sure, I will tell you how the book hunt went.

* * *

Martin is more than used by now to be what people tend to call _a people pleaser_ , he likes helping people, but sometimes is hard, even for him, to see when it’s his own kindness at work, and when he just does it out of habit. However, when it was Jon who asked for his help, his heart soared, and then he chided himself for such a reaction, realizing how _pathetic_ it was for him to feel like that, not that it stopped him from feeling that way in the first place.

So here he is, sitting down in the wooden bench of a busy London park next to Jonathan Sims. At first, Jon asked if he would like to accompany him in some research he needed to finish up for Sasha and he had accepted, but later the dark skinned man revealed that the research for their boss had been done and he is on a different kind of investigation, a personal one that involves old forgotten books.

“No… I don’t think we have it on the library” he explains, pursuing his lips. He had worked on the library, before being transferred to the archives, he kn0ws the list of available books there back and forth, he probably still has the pdf copy of it on his mobile phone. “I can check, but if the book was really written in 1835, then it’s probably not on the library itself or available for research or loaning, we don’t have a room specially modified to keep such sensitive material either but…” he muses out loud, “shouldn’t it be with us on the archive? I mean, we did find some letters addressed to Jonah Magnus”.

“Yeah, but…” he would have known if they have that book, he already checked the archives. “No…” Jon admits, shoulders slumping, “we don’t have it”.

“You did say there was a third copy; I could find it for you”.

“No, you won’t be able to find it; the third copy was gifted to Mordechai Lukas almost two centuries ago”, Jon cocks an eyebrow when Martin’s eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Martin? Martin, you better not be thinking about breaking into Moorland Manor, I doubt the Lukases still have it”.

“Today is Thursday, give me until Monday and I will find the book for you”.

“Breaking into Carlos Vittery’s apartment is one thing, but the Lukas State is-…” he rambles until Martin playfully covers his mouth with one hand to shut him up; the affronted frown he gets in response is the cutest thing he has seen all day, so he allows his arm to fall next to him and smiles at Jon.

“Don’t worry about it; I will get you that book”.

* * *

The view is a blur through the glass of the train window, looking at it is a bit dizzy, to be honest. Martin sighs and puts his small notebook away, so much for trying to capture the beauty of the landscape in a poem. He arrives to Kent sooner than expected; the place is not as full as usual, which is clearly due to the cold weather. He takes a taxi to Moorland Manor, because it’s _way_ off in the outskirts of the town and wishes he had brought a thicker jumper or a different coat. The taxi driver gives him a strange look when he gets down, but Martin ignores it.

He zips up his jacket and begins to walk towards the iron gates that he very well knows lead onto the Lukas’ Estate. Even from here he can hear the roar of the waves colliding with the seashore, can smell the sea salt rising into the thick fog that surrounds him, can feel the misty frigid air going into his lungs when he takes a deep, deep breath. These sensations are familiar, they’re beckoning, they’re… well, they’re _home_. Despite the cold, Martin is home.

The Lukas family tends to have very few personnel that work in the house for more than a few years, but he knows the security guard at the entrance is the same as always, an older man named Marius, who smiles upon recognizing him and proceeds to open the gate for him. The redhead thanks him and starts walking the long paved road towards the manor.

“I’m here to see Mrs. Lukas” he explains with a smile to the bewildered new face in maid outfit that greets him at the door, a young woman probably the same age as him. She blinks. Is weird that he is used to this? He smiles once again. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Ah, yes, sorry, my name is Darla, I started last Monday”.

“I see, well, nice to meet you, Darla, I’m Martin. I come by every Saturday”.

Another familiar face exits one of the rooms near the hallway, it’s Yvette, the housekeeper. She chides Darla for making him wait, even though he assures her it’s no problem, and tells him she would go announce him to Mrs. Lukas, _announce him_ , like he is some kind of important guest in a Victorian novel. However, he insists in going to greet her himself like he always does, so Yvette accompanies him to the back porch.

There she is, sitting upon a chair, staring at the unending waves in the beach that hides behind the Lukas Estate. Even while still, she is the picture of a perfect upper class woman, a picture of grace and elegance, with her sand coloured sweater, beige pants and her light blue blouse. Her faded auburn hair blows slightly in the marine breeze.

Odeta Lukas is the only woman Martin will ever love.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love his mother, what kind of monster doesn’t love their own mother? Thing is, Mauve Blackwood is not the exactly the most loving of mothers. Especially after Martin’s father left them. In her eyes, Martin is always doing something wrong, he is never enough; nothing he does is note-worthy, not even when it’s for her, like when he ditched his father’s surname and took hers. It’s fine, he always tells himself, because he is sure that, deep, deep inside she loves him. Even if once she called him by his father’s name.

He came in contact with the Lukas family when he was in a very dark moment, he hadn’t finished high school, his mother’s health was getting worse and the banknotes were piling up… until he received a call from someone claiming to be from his father’s family, the little he knew about Aaron Lukas was what he heard from his mum, but he was desperate and agreed to meet them.

Odeta, Matriarch of the Lukas Family, is the only woman that has treated Martin the way he had always secretly wished his own mother would.

She doesn’t think Martin’s love for poetry is stupid, more so, she is a fan of Keats herself! When Martin came out to his mother, she screamed at him, when he came out to his grandmother, she nodded and asked if any young man had caught his eye yet. His mother refuses his visits, but Odeta is more than glad to see him every Saturday for their weekly chat over tea and pastries. In the Devon care home he feels like an unwanted nuisance, while in Moorland Manor he feels like royalty.

Unbeknownst to Martin, Mauve Blackwood sees in him the man she hates, while Odeta Lukas sees in him the son she lost.

He approaches her chair.

“Delivery for Mrs. Lukas” he greets in the most monotonous tone possible, making her turn, confused, then she smiles as she sees him, he smiles back and bends down to kiss her forehead. “Hi, Nana, have you missed me?”

“Hello, Martin” she says, then turns to the housekeeper. “Yvette, please prepare my study and tell Darla to make tea and fetch us some pastries”, Yvette only nods as her boss turns to the young man again, taking him by the hand, instructing him to sit with her.

Yvette has worked for the Lukas Family for a long time, enough to know this is not a normal house and this is far from a normal family. She has learnt to not make comments, to keep quiet and only talk when she is addressed directly, to ignore what it’s not her business, she has adapted. Yet, she knows that her boss, Odeta, is a very lonely woman. The other members of the family rarely stop by, since she is the only one who lives in the family manor all year round. She has noticed that, whenever he comes by, Mr. Peter won’t even look at her in the face, who does that to their own mother?

Is no surprise that she follows the same routine every Saturday, she wakes up early, has breakfast, does a tour or two around the house making sure everyone has been assigned a task for the day, goes into the family chapel (that for some reason is in the basement of the manor), then she goes out to the back porch to read as she awaits for Martin’s arrival. The staff and her grandson are the only contact she has with the outside world or with any people at all, no wonder she looks forward to every weekend.

Odeta Lukas lives, in her eyes, the loneliest of lives.

Darla is wiping the island countertops when she enters the kitchen again, while she talks in hushed whispers with another one of the maids _about Martin_. Yvette shakes her head, Darla is a nice girl, but she is too chatty and curious for her own good. She instructs the girl to go upstairs to the top floor and go change the linens of the room next to Mr. Nathaniel’s, to clean and dust too, since that room has not been used in a while

“Oh, and add some extra blankets when you make the bed”, she adds, Martin, just like any other member of the Lukas family, has a bedroom of his own for when he stays the night, he has done it enough times by now that Yvette recalls he always asks for extra blankets, the maid doesn’t say anything, just nods, smart girl, she has been here longer than Darla after all. “Darla, you put on the kettle, Mrs. Lukas wants tea and pastries for her and her guest”, the housekeeper waits until the other maid leaves to address her subordinate again. “Listen, Darla, the man in the back porch is Martin, she is Mrs. Lukas’ grandson, he lives in London but comes by every week to see her, so next time, you don’t make him wait, you just take him to Mrs. Lukas”, she pauses, taking a look at the pastries pilling up in the plate. “Add some more lemon ones for the Mrs, and some chocolates ones for him” the young woman hurries to comply. “Good”.

“Um, is Martin Mr. Peter’s son?” she asks tentatively.

“No”, no need to explain the whole family tree to Darla when Yvette herself doesn’t have it all down yet. 

To be completely honest, she isn’t sure either whose kid is Martin.

When Yvette goes to the back porch to tell them that the study is ready, she finds Martin holding both of Odeta’s hands in his as she talks. When they’re together it’s not hard to see the resemblance, the auburn hair that in her case is greyer, the light blue eyes and even the few faint freckles that age hasn’t faded yet in her skin and that pollute the young man’s cheeks. Yvette has seen Peter Lukas and his blond hair and grey eyes don’t look a thing like Martin, but she has never seen any of the other children Odeta may have.

Martin sits on the comfortable lounge chair of his grandmother’s study room, sipping from a fine cup of warm white tea. He really needs to get the address of the bakery his grandmother commissions the pastries from, they’re the best he has ever had.

“…and then Sasha just _screams_ , so we thought she was hurt or something, but nah, she just saw a spider, but like, it was super big? She climbed on top of her desk and everything”.

“Oh, my” Odeta says, before taking a sip out of her cup.

“Yeah, and Tim is like _we totally have to kill that, team_ ” he says, in a poor imitation of his friend’s voice, “Jon gets this super affronted look on his face and tell us not to, I try to reason saying how vital to the ecosystem they’re and I offer to take it outside, I used Tim’s empty lunch Tupperware out of spite, though” Odeta _laughs_ at this and it makes Martin smile, because happiness looks good on her, it makes her look younger. “Jon is like, _be careful, is a female spider you’re dealing with_ , and when I try to coerce the little friend into the Tupperware, she just runs away from me, and Tim screams like a scared little child and throws a bunch of files on top of the spider and… well, Jon was right, it _was_ a female spider”.

“Oh?”

“A few seconds after the file landed on the floor, a thousand of baby spiders came out from underneath”.

“Oh, goodness” she says surprised.

Martin stays for dinner, he can almost feel the stare from the members of the staff when they heard Odeta laughing, some of them for the first time ever. A part of him is angry at them; can’t they be happy that she is happy for once? They are served a dinner that probably costs more than what Martin makes in a month at the Institute but is delicious none the less.

“Your Uncle Peter will sail into port next weekend; will you come and see him?”

“Um, sure” he shrugs, it’s not that he doesn’t like his uncle Peter, it’s just… it’s just that he gets sad that he doesn’t visit Odeta as often as he himself does. “I have a lovely lady to visit first though, maybe you know her, her name is Odeta”, the old woman laughs again.

* * *

On Monday, Jon clocks in early and starts working in a report. He has nearly forgotten his conversation with Martin almost five days ago and doesn’t even take his eyes off the screen of his laptop when they greet each other. At least until he notices that Martin places something on his desk and slides it towards him. He glances at the book and immediately does a double take.

_Balance and Fear_ , says the book in blocky golden letters at the top, while at the bottom it says _Robert Smirke_. He hurries to take it under Martin’s amused stare the rough covers that may have once been smooth, open to reveal the yellowed first page, where the inscription, in a calligraphy characteristic of the 19th century, reads: _To my esteemed friend, Mordechai Lukas._

“Impossible…” he murmurs as his fingers trace the ink, and then looks up at Martin, “how?”

Martin looks at the chair next to Jon’s, where a cardboard box full of files lies. He places the box on the floor next to the desk and sits.

“Do you remember when you asked about what patron do I serve but I didn’t answer you?”

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t really my place to ask, was it now?” the redhead takes a deep breath. “Oh, Martin, you… you don’t have to tell me, I understand that some people don’t-…”

“I serve the Forsaken”, he interrupts, but Jon just blinks at him. He tries again. “Um, I serve the Lonely? The, ah, The One Alone?”

“But only members of the Lukas family are known to serve that patron to the point of becoming avatars” Martin thinks the confused tone of his voice is endearing, as Jon’s eyes widen with the realization. “No”.

“Yeah!”

“You’re…?”

“Is a long story, but, uh, we can go out for lunch later and I can tell you about it if you want?”

* * *

“So, they just showed at your doorstep like, _hey, we’re your family, long time no see?_ ” Jon asks, before taking another drag from his cigarette as they walk towards the Institute.

“Well, not really. The first one I met was my grandmother Odeta; she explained to me that she had been looking for me for a long time and that she was so happy to finally meet me” Martin smiles at the memory. “She talked to me for hours, she wanted to know everything about me, what food did like to eat? What music did I like to listen to? What books did I like to read? Nobody had listened to me like that before, it was… nice…” he pursues his lips. “My mum is… difficult in the best of days, so Nana was a nice change” Jon nods, solemnly. “Oh, but it wasn’t that easy with everyone, my great uncle Nathaniel ordered a DNA test” he rolls his eyes, “it of course came back _positive_ and my Nana was overjoyed, she said that she didn’t needed a silly test, she said she always knew in her heart that I was her grandson”.

“And then what?”

“Well, I needed to take care of my mum, so I offered to work in any of the business the family owns, Nana insisted for me to finish high school first and then to think about college, she promised that the family will cover any costs I may have, but showing up and taking money from them didn’t sit right with me, so I took a look at what business did we own and made some CVs to hand to my uncle Nathaniel, since he is the one that runs the finances, I only qualified for the job at the Magnus Institute… kind of… anyways, upon Nana’s request I also did a couple of short courses at the Queen Mary University here in London, then my mum moved to Devon for treatment and here you have me…”

“I see. Quick question, Elias is married to Peter Lukas, right? Then he is your…”

“Yes, Jon, legally speaking Elias is my uncle” then he groans. “Is sooo awkward, I can’t bring myself to call him _Uncle Elias_ for the life of me” Jon chuckles. “Not that I see the need to either, he and Uncle Peter are divorced right now, but they will renown their vows in the Spring. Anyways, that’s enough about me, what about you?”

“Well, you know that Anna and I grew up in a foster home in Cowley, Oxford” he shrugs. “105 Hill Top Road”.

Martin blinks, wondering if asking if he means the same Hill Top Road that features in all those creepy statements is rude, but he doesn’t get to, since they’re already at the institute’s doors and this is no workplace talk. He instead asks how Annabelle is doing these days, since it has been a while since he last saw her.

“She is doing well” Jon doesn’t mention that Annabelle is acting a bit _strange_ for Annabelle’s standards but he guesses it’s nothing, especially not when _strange_ just means more cheerful and enthusiastic than usual and Jon likes seeing her that way. “I will tell her you said hi”.

“Well, well, the lovebirds are back from their date!” Tim exclaims as a greeting. “Anyways, lads, we have some spooky things to look into for Sasha”.

Martin pursues his lips, cheeks reddening, he wants to tell Tim to cut it out, because it was _not_ a date, even if he offered to pay for both of their lunches and they talked about stuff you usually would on a date, even if he would love to go out on a date with Jon… _UGH_ , but it wasn’t a date!

Sasha pokes her head out of her office.

“Oh, hey, you guys are back, that’s good. Jon, can you come into my office for a moment?”

“Ohhh, you’re in trouble!” Tim teases, before Sasha shots him a glare. “Fine, fine, I will go back to work”.

Jon shrugs and leaves his stuff on his desk, and then he marches to Sasha’s office, surprised when the woman closes the door. They sit at her desk and then Sasha clasps her hands on top of the wooden surface, expression serious.

“Jon…” she starts, “there’s something that I wanted to talk to you about…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so:  
> 1) Let Martin have a positive female figure in his life! He deserves all the love.  
> 2) Aaron Lukas is one of Peter's siblings, he is mentioned in #159. "The Last", where Peter himself says in his story that Aaron was too sociable and therefore not fit to serve the Lonely, so he was "sent away to live with distant relatives", which he thinks may mean he was murdered, but I say _FUCK THAT, here's a better idea_  
>  3) Odeta is an Albanian/Romanian name, derived from the word "deti", meaning "blue, sea"
> 
> Also, Gerard Keay? Never heard of him, I only know the very much alive book hunter Gerry Delano :)


	4. Broken Artefact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon hates that Annabelle was right about the table...

“What is it Sasha?”

“Tim and I were looking into the Sinclair statement, the one about the halfway house in Hill Top Road”, Sasha tries to see any change in her friend’s face as he absorbs the information, but she finds none. “Of course, as Mr. Sinclair said, it would be near impossible to find records from that time, but Tim managed to track down someone who stayed there in the nineties, he was there for drug addiction recovery, he remembers there were other five kids with him” she explains, “one was of course, Agnes Montague, then a runaway, a teenager who been charged with theft and two young kids” still no changes in Jon’s expression, she sighs, “imagine my surprise when he explains to me that the kids were Raymond’s adopted children, two kids by the names Jonathan and Annabelle Fielding”.

“Sasha, I don’t get what you’re getting at”.

“What? Jon, you grew up at Hill Top Road, right? I mean, that’s what those files and that interview are telling me” she explains patiently, Jon nods. “ _Why didn’t you said something sooner_?” a special intonation is laced through Sasha’s words, one that makes Jon want to spill his guts to her about his life story.

“I… I didn’t want to open up old wounds” he explains hesitantly. “Annabelle was heartbroken when Raymond… look, I can give you a statement if you want, but not now and definitely not _here_ , I-…” they’re interrupted by some noises outside the office and Jon silently thanks whatever luck he may still have for it.

Tim forcefully opens the door.

“We have to leave!”

* * *

Jon stares as Sasha, a few meters away from him, tries to make a phone call, he doesn’t know how much signal is she going to be able to get down here in the tunnels, but if trying to find out what is happening upstairs helps her be more at ease, he won’t stop her. Tim is inspecting one of the walls while still keeping close to Sasha, Meanwhile, Martin is sitting next to him, clutching a book. _Balance and Fear_ , he recognizes, seems like he managed to grab it before they bolted to the trapdoor beneath the stairs. Their friend mentioned she wanted to explore the tunnels anyways.

Tim had managed to find that the table on Artefact Storage had broken when it was being transported out of the building, and _something_ has come out of it.

“So…” Martin starts, not really looking at Jon, at first, checking on Tim and Sasha instead and lowering his voice. “I was right about the table; it made me uneasy because it had a spooky surprise inside”.

Jon shakes his head, smiling slightly as he sits down next to Martin in the dusty ground.

“No, Martin, it was because the table was laced with my patron’s influence…”, Martin furrows his brow, in thoughtfulness and Jon cannot help but stare as he does so, waiting to hear what the redhead will come up with next.

“But I like spiders, Jon” he protests and he has to laugh at that.

Tim and Sasha approach them, the man sits by them while Sasha remains standing, she crosses her arms. She would actually like to sit down, thank you very much, but her knee length pencil skirt won’t allow it, the ground looks too cold anyways.

“What are you two talking about?” she asks.

“And don’t you dare say _nothing_ ” Tim warns. “You two weren’t as subtle as you thought you were. Say, what is this _patron_ thing you were talking about?”

There’s silence in the group for a bit, only the _drip, drip, drip_ sound of a nearby broken pipeline, Martin looks at Jon, who looks at him back. He wishes he could communicate with Jon just with his eyes like he has seen Sasha and Tim doing with each other, but communicating with the shorter man is hard to do so even in the best of days.

“Martin” he says, “please, give me the book”.

He does so without a second thought, _Jon will know what to do_ , he thinks, he can explain it to Tim and Sasha and then they can all go forget this over a meal. So, he waits, sees Jon opening the book an explaining the concept of entities to his bewildered friends, the concept of patrons and their correspondence with fears that all living beings have.

They don’t react like Martin expected, like at all.

“Are you serious? Of all the times you could have chosen to pull a prank, you chose now?” Tim demands, not angry but rather exasperated, “it’s not funny, Jon!”

“It’s not a joke!”

A fight ensues; his friends go from calmly taking it all in to yelling at each other’s faces in a matter of moments. That’s when he stands up. Despite his size, Martin is not a fighter but he is sure he can get in between them and put them at arm’s length and away from each other enough time for Sasha to talk some sense into them and get them away from each other. He hopes it doesn’t escalate to that; Jon is not much of a fighter either.

“You knew!” Tim yells, he is not moving, but only because Sasha has a hand around his bicep and the other on his chest, he is trying not to move because he doesn’t want to hurt her. “You knew about this and you did not tell us!”

“Tim…” Martin feels the need to step in; he cannot allow his friends to keep going like this. However, the black-haired man turns to look at him, the fire; the anger in his eyes makes him flinch.

“Did you know?” he asks, slowly, deliberately, he doesn’t answer at first, too shocked to do so. “Martin! Did? You? Know?” he punctuates the question in a way that makes them sound like three different ones.

His shoulders slump and he feels the weight of the guilt wash over him.

“Yes”.

“So you knew!” and now the tone is accusatory and it reminds him way too much of the way his mother sounded every time she scolded him for something outside of his control, so he shrinks into himself. “You knew about this shit and you kept it hidden from us because… because of a stupid crush!”

There’s another moment of silence. This time they cannot hear a sound but their ragged breathing and the beating of their hearts that feels like the tunnels are amplifying tenfold. Martin feels like his heart shatters and drops down into his stomach, like that time his mother called him Aaron.

Tim’s eyes widen, as if realizing what he had just said.

Nobody says anything, because is as if everybody thinks that by doing so, something horrible would happen.

“Martin…” he tries, hand outstretched towards him.

“Save it” he snaps, then he takes one of the torches they brought down here and takes off in a random direction, despite Jon’s and Sasha’s protests for him to stay. He doesn’t look at Jon, he doesn’t have the guts to face him, not after what the other man has implied… yeah it was implied, but Jon is a smart man and it is so, so obvious… yeah, what was he even thinking? Jon must have realized early on about his silly little crush and that’s why he treated him the way he did, who would want him of all people to have a crush on them? Nobody, that’s who.

He walks, and walks and walks into the dark, cold and silent tunnel until he no longer hears any protests. He stops for a second, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. This whole situation reminds him of that time in elementary when his first crush found a silly love letter he had written for him and showed all of his friends just to mock him, but a thousand times worse.

How he wishes he was anywhere but here! How he wishes he was in the Manor, having tea with his grandmother, maybe staring at the waves crashing into the seashore of their private beach. He would even be happy to be with his Uncle Peter in the Tundra, sailing away to an unknown destination, even if he is sure he would get sea sick. With his eyes closed like this, in complete still silence, he can almost feel the fog curling around him, the smell of the sea salt… god, he can almost hear the waves crashing into the shore, the wind blowing in the distance.

He takes a step, eyes still closed, and it almost feels like he is walking in the beach.

When Martin was younger and he was upset, he would always imagine that he ran to his mother and she would comfort him, as if Mauve Blackwood would hold him close and murmur meaningless reassurances that would sooth him. Of course, that _never_ happened.

Now, when he thinks of comfort, he thinks of a slightly too cold manor shrouded in fog in which lives a woman whose smiles mean the world to Martin.

Martin is not dumb, he knows how the Forsaken works, how you have to isolate yourself to serve it. However, Odeta explained to him a slightly deeper version. Your loneliness feeds the Lonely, but it cannot be feed if you’re accustomed to be lonely, no, you have to remember what having company felt like, how comforting that is, because that’s what allows you to come back from it, it’s your _anchor_ to the world.

 _“I always thought the Forsaken would eat me from inside out, because what did I have left that tied me to this world?”_ she said while staring through the window of her study that once had been her husband’s. _“And I understood that it was what I deserved, I mean, I’m no mother of the year, after all. However, I unexpectedly received a gift from your father”._

 _“A gift from… him?”_ he can never bring himself to call Aaron father or dad, not after all that happened. “ _What was it?”_

 _“It was you”_ her smile warm when she turned to him. _“I had five children, Martin… and yet the only one I see is your Uncle Peter, but he doesn’t see **me**. And you? You see me; not only that, but you **love me** ”_

_“Of course I love you, Nana”._

_“I know. I see the love in your eyes when you look at me, I hear it in your voice when you talk to me, I feel it every time you come to visit, is like a warmth that floods this cold house, and that, dragul meu, is the best gift your father could have ever give me: the love of a grandson”._

Martin opens his eyes, finding himself in the tunnels again; they’re cold and silent, but not the comforting cold and the peaceful silence that permeates the manor, he takes a deep breath, and decides to continue walking.

“Martin! Martin!” he hears behind him, it’s an urgent calling, like the person is agitated, he must be more out of it than he thinks because it takes him a bit to realise that is Jon. “Martin!”

“Jon?”

“Martin, oh!” he sounds relieved, before he announces: “I-, I came for you”.

Martin knows he should say _thank you_ but the only thing he manages is to turn his face towards the opposite side of the tunnel to Jon. He can’t look at him, not yet, not with what just happened.

“Why?”

“…I thought you might be lost…” and he sounds so unsure, so worried that Martin wants to cry again. He doesn’t want Jon to treat him like he is fragile and going to break, especially not out of pity.

They don’t say anything for a while.

“We should, uh, go back”.

“Yeah, we should”.

* * *

“C’mon, Sash! Talk to me!” Tim complains as they walk in another part of the tunnel, looking for their friends. “I know that I was wrong…”

“Wrong?” she asks, before spinning on her heels to face him. “Wrong?! Timothy Stoker you were a dickhead!” he has the decency to look ashamed.

“I didn’t mean to say that”.

“And yet, you did”.

“I’m sorry”.

“It’s not me who you should be apologizing to”.

They continue walking, their footsteps echoing in the tunnel as they do so. Tim looks back on their conversation, he _really_ didn’t mean to lash out at Martin like that; it was just that he couldn’t believe that he would withhold such delicate information.

Jon’s words before he left to go look for him still haunt him: _have it occurred to you that he didn’t do it because of me?_ What the hell was that supposed to mean? At the moment he didn’t pay that much attention, mostly because he wanted to object that maybe the shorter man wasn’t the best choice right now, but Sasha told him to shut up, handing a torch to Jon and telling him to bring Martin back. However, why else would Martin hide this from them? I mean, it _is_ crazy and a lot to take in, but if is real, then they’re all in danger.

He almost walks into Sasha, lost in his thoughts as he is.

“Sasha?”

“Shh!” she shushes, lowering when her voice to whisper. “I think there’s something ahead, turn off your torch”.

* * *

Martin feels pathetic. He is still choking back some tears and sniffling a bit as he walks next to Jon.

“Sorry…” he says for the umpteenth time, this time he does manage to add an excuse. “I just really don’t like fights”.

“Is fine” Jon shrugs, “Annabelle cries a lot too when she is upset”, he stops and turns to look at Martin, “but if she asks, I _did not_ tell you that”.

“Your secret is safe with me” he promises and Jon gives him half a smile, then he offers him his hand. “Oh, I’m not that _sad_ , you don’t have to-…”

“It’s not that” the man interrupts. “Can you see in the dark?” too weirded out by the question, he just shakes his head _no_. “Ah, I see, I know some patrons grant their avatars the ability to see in the dark, but I was not sure if the Lonely did the same”, he muses out loud, “anyways, I _can_ see in the dark, give me your hand, if the torches die down I don’t want to lose you in the tunnels”, without waiting for an answer, Jon takes his hand and Martin face heats up.

The contact feels nice because the spider’s hand feels warm in his, is comforting, grounding.

“Jon?” he asks after a while, to which the other man hums, “thanks for coming for me”.

“No problem”.

Is nice, walking likes this with Jon, he can pretend that he is not treating him like porcelain out of pity. He loves when Jon is sweet like this, because this isn’t the first time he has seen this side of him. He really had turned the corner from his initial _less approachable than a feral cat with rabies_ attitude. When did he change? Martin almost stops dead in his tracks when he realises the moment Jon turned more… gentle towards him, if you will.

It was after the Prentiss attack, after Jon found out that he is an avatar too. Does Jon know other people… well, “people” who are like him aside from Martin and Annabelle? God, if he doesn’t he must be so… lonely, nah, maybe he is projecting, being Lonely is Martin’s thing after all. The existence of other avatars, however, can wait to be investigated in another time, now there’s another thing he is curious about.

“Jon?” he asks again, to which the man turns to look at him. “You said I didn’t like the table because it was, uh, how did you say it? _Laced with your patron’s influence_?” he nods. “What does that mean?”

“You got Smirke’s book but you have never read it, have you?” he asks, amused.

“Ah, no, I only recently found about it, thanks to you. I feel like I should, though, give it a read, I mean, it seems important”.

“What have you been told exactly?”

“Not much, to be honest, for the way Uncle Peter talked about it; he made it sound like it was only our family who was… I don’t know, spooky? Weird?”

“How lonely” Jon teases, making Martin giggle. “Hey, wait”, he points his torch at a discarded candy wrapper on the side of the tunnel, “didn’t we pass by that thing like five times already? We have been walking for around an hour, at least”

“I was, uh, actually wandering the same thing”.

“Check your watch” he says, and since Martin doesn’t own a watch him, turns on his mobile phone instead, where the numbers are blurring and reshaping themselves, he turns the screen on and off, but it remains the same. It seems to be enough for Jon. “Oh, this shit again” he murmurs mostly to himself and Martin is surprised to hear him curse. “Michael!” he yells at the empty tunnel, voice full of that annoyance the redhead knows so well. “Michael! Show yourself!”

A sound that reminds Martin too much of the noise wiggling laminated paper makes, echoes in the tunnel, it disorients him when he tries to pinpoint the location where the… laughter? is coming from.

A blink later, he finds himself staring at a door, Jon stalks up to it and yanks it open. On the other side stands a tall man with long blond curls that reaches down to his waist. Martin is few meters away from him and Jon but they should be the same height, given how his friend has to look up to see this guy’s face. He doesn’t miss the smile with too many teeth or the too large hands either.

“What are you doing here?” Jon snaps.

Martin winces when the newcomer laughs that laughs of theirs again.

“Oh, my spider friend, you’re still as blunt as always, I see. I do like that about you!” then he looks past him, eyes fixed on Martin who, if asked, couldn’t for the life of him be able to tell what colour they were, and tilting his head in a way that makes a snapping sound and, by the angle, should have left him with a broken neck. “And who is this? Perhaps, a new friend to welcome into our little group?”

“I asked you a question, Michael”.

“Yeah, you did. If you must know, I got some strange messages from Annabelle, asking me to check on you, she sounded very insistent on making sure you were safe, so here I am. You know I cannot say _no_ when your dear sister requests something from me”.

“Where’s Annabelle? Is she safe?”

Michael shrugs.

“I think so, she did text me earlier that she was going to go see Mike after coming here? I think she mentioned something about a cursed family heirloom you guys may have”.

“Mike?” Jon repeats, baffled. “I mean, yeah, she was here, brought me lunch even, but I told her I will handle the thing with the table, which is not a cursed family heirloom, Michael, good Lord. Anyways, are you sure she is with Mike? I need to go see her, make sure she is fine, and tell me how to get out of here”.

“That’s easy, spider friend! Just… go through the door” he then points at a door that wasn’t there before, then closing the door they come from and vanishing just as fast as they appeared.

“So…” Martin starts as he approaches Jon, who is fumbling with the door’s lock, “you have interesting friends”.

“He is not _my_ friend, he is Anabelle’s friend and he is a weirdo!” he pulls on the door. “Ugh, three locks are you serious, Michael?” he quickly tries to reach the top one but his fingers barely brush against the metal due to the door’s height, Martin steps in and undoes it for him, he murmurs something that sounds like _thanks_ and proceeds to undo the last one. “Anyway, I need to make sure Anna didn’t come back, with that thing on the loose…”

The door finally opens, leading into a warm office that they know well. Sasha’s office, where she, Tim and an old man seem to be talking, the tape recorder is running, the whirring of it’s little wheels moving the only sound in the suddenly awkward room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I told you last chapter, Odeta is an Albanian/Romanian name, the words she uses to regard Martin: "Dragul Meu" mean "my dear" in Romanian.


	5. A Guest for Mr. Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding a childhood encounter with a book formerly possessed by Jürgen Leitner and his subsequent time in Hill Top Road, Sasha James recording

Once the old man is introduced as Jürgen Leitner, the awkward silence takes over again. At least until Martin and Jon exchange a look, and the shorter man comes forward and offers his hand to the man, who takes it, somewhat hesitantly.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Leitner, I’m Jonathan Fielding, and I believe I should thank _you_ ” the man’s face falls as his eyes land on the hand he is shaking then seeing the black spider hanging from a thread tattooed on the dark skin of Jon’s inner forearm… his eyes widen as the man smiles.

Then Martin, as if understanding what Jon is playing at, steps in and gives him a handshake as well.

“Hello, sir, my name is Martin Lukas” the surname feels foreign in his tongue, when was the last time he introduced himself with his real name? Well, the word _real_ is subjective, before meeting Odeta he had always felt more of a _Blackwood_ than a _Lukas_.

Tim and Sasha just stare at them, trying to process what is even going on, _Jonathan Fielding_? _Martin Lukas_? What are those two playing at? Before either of them can utter a very deserved and necessary _what the fuck_ , Jon turns to Sasha, playfulness gone.

“Sasha, do you think I could be excused? There may be something going on with my sister and I need to check on her”.

“Oh! Oh, my god, you don’t even have to _ask_ , Jon! Go, go!” she answers in a hurry.

“I will walk you out!” Martin cheerfully offers.

When they’re gone, Sasha turns to the old man again, but she finds him muttering to himself.

“Mr. Leitner?”

“A guest for Mr. Spider…” he says, and then she looks at Tim, hoping he understood what was that supposed to mean, but he just shrugs. “It’s a book from my collection, it’s the only one that could have possibly… oh, god, but…” he shakes his head, as if to get rid of the thoughts. “We can focus on that on that later; we don’t have the time to think about a _spider_ and a Lukas on the archives”.

“I mean, we know Jon is… _peculiar_ , I guess you can say, but Martin must have been kidding, no idea why, he doesn’t do that very often, maybe too much time spent with Tim”, now she and the man in question share a smile.

Jürgen does not answer; instead he gets up from his seat and picks up something from the floor, a small medallion, barely bigger than a coin, hanging from a gold chain. He presents it to Sasha, who examines it. She had seen it before, Martin tends to play with it when he gets nervous or just distracted, when asked about it, he just said it was a gift from his uncle, but she had never seen the inscription before. Is a simple design of an octopus with the words _Dormivit oblivion erimus_ around it, it’s Latin, of course, but Sasha does not speak Latin.

“ _Dormivit oblivion erimus_ ” the old man recites perfectly, “I barely had to read it, it means ‘ _Forgotten_ _shall we be laid to rest’,_ that is the family crest of the Lukas family you’re holding, young lady”.

Sasha turns the gold piece only to find a little inscription with the name _Martin K. Lukas_ and a birth date that while the day and the month correspond with her friend’s birthday, the year is wrong, as far as she knows Martin is older than both she and Tim by a year of two, but if this is correct then Martin is the same age as Jon instead, she knows Martin lied in his CV, but did he lie about his age too? Why?

“Should I-…?” Tim offers, extending his hand towards hers that holds the gold piece.

“No, I will talk with him about it later” she decides, covering it with her hand, hiding it from view, “but why don’t you go talk to him?” Tim perks up at this and kisses her cheek, before rushing to the door.

Leitner cocks an eyebrow at this but doesn’t say anything.

* * *

“You sure you’re not staying? Maybe he can tell us something we don’t yet know” Martin asks softly.

They’re standing outside the institute, Jon has already done his dark brown corduroy and leather jacket (it seems Annabelle is not the only one who uses vintage clothes) and his leather gloves, he is sitting on top on his red motorcycle (Martin would never have thought a man like Jonathan Sims would own a motorcycle, yet here you have him, helmet under one arm and keys on his free hand, _cheaper than the tube and easier to maintain than a car_ , he had said).

“No, I’m worried about Anna. I better go make sure she is okay, is weird that she texted Michael of all people, she has far more capable friends” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I see, um, Jon before you leave, can I ask you a quick question?”

“Sure”.

“Michael and that Mike guy you mentioned… are they… are they like _us_?”

“What a lonely thought, to think we’re the only ones, Martin” he teases, smiling almost sweetly, his eyes soft. Oh, if that softness doesn’t make Martin turn into a metaphorical puddle of goo, Jon should smile like that more often, “but yes, I know a lot of people like us, here in England. Tell you what, I will talk with some of my friends and I will introduce you to them, how’s that?”

“You would?? Oh, that’s really nice, sure, sure!” he answers, hoping he doesn’t sound too eager.

When Jon finally leaves and Martin goes back inside, he finds Tim waiting for him at the entrance. He spares him a glance, but keeps walking.

“I don’t want to talk now, Tim” he says, “I don’t want to argue again”.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m-…”

“I’m not in the mood, Tim”.

“You seemed in the mood not five minutes ago when you were talking with Jon”, now he spins on his heels to face Tim, who winces. “Look, I’m not trying to be an arsehole to you, okay? I just want to-…!”

“Is not because of him, okay?” Tim frowns in confusion, making him roll his eyes. “I have my own reasons for not saying anything, reasons that have nothing to do with who I have a crush on or whatever, I just need you to know that and that’s all I will say on the matter” he turns around to start the walk back to the archives. “So, do you think this man is really Jürgen Leitner?”

“He seems to be”, Tim shrugs, walking next to him, “I mean, if he is an impostor he should have picked a different character, huh?” he tries to joke but Martin is not even looking at him. Is there anything more hurtful than Martin not replying to your jokes and ignoring you?

A scream comes from the archives.

Now they both look at each other, before bolting towards the archive where Sasha keeps on screaming.

* * *

Jon knocks on the wooden door of Mike’s flat; it took him a while to get there due to the traffic, so he insistently taps his foot against the floor as he waits for the man to open. When he finally does, he is rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, wearing a baggy white t-shirt and track pants; he looks surprised to see him, but steps aside to let him in anyways.

“Jon, what a surprise” he murmurs, “uh, what can I do for you?”

“Is Annabelle here?” if he wasn’t so worried about his sister, he would have noticed how tense the other man is.

“Ah…”

“Mikey, who was it?” both turn to look at Annabelle, entering the small living room, wearing nothing but a light blue dress shirt that looks so big on her that Jon guesses is Mike’s. She looks something between mortified and terrified. “Jon? Oh, my god, what are you doing here?”

There’s nothing but silence for a few moments.

“I saw Michael today” he explains, “told me about some weird messages you sent him and that you would be here, I wanted to make sure you were okay”.

“I didn’t send him anything” she says, frowning. “You know what? I’m going to go change, my phone should be on my purse, there in the couch” she points to said furniture, before turning and heading back, presumably, to Mike’s bedroom.

Jon waits until his sister is gone to approach the couch and starts looking around her purse for her mobile phone silently.

“Can I offer you anything, Jon?” Mike offers awkwardly. “Uh… I should have some tea, coffee? Maybe some juice?”

“I’m fine, Mike, thank you” he responds without sparing him a glance as he keeps looking through the handbag.

“Alright… we… uh, we didn’t want you to find out like this-…”

“Mike” is all the reply he gets, sharp but not aggressive, when he doesn’t respond Jon nods and continues with his search.

The phone is nowhere to be seen, it is not in the purse or in Mike’s bedroom either. Once they make sure it’s not even on the flat, Annabelle packs up her stuff, kisses Mike in the cheek with the promise of a call, before leaving with Jon. The ride back to their own flat is silent, not that you could talk much while on a motorcycle, and when they finally arrive, Annabelle goes straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Jon makes himself a coffee.

He is musing on the lost messages, Annabelle clearly didn’t send those, but whoever has her phone did. That would explain those calls that went straight to voicemail when he was waiting in the lift to reach Mike’s floor.

“Jon…” the man lifts his eyes from his mobile phone upon hearing his sister call his name, he was staring at his group chat with Tim, Martin and Sasha, expecting an update from them, she is at the kitchen’s entrance, where he is resting against the countertop. She is wearing the clothes she usually wears to bed, an oversized sweatshirt that originally belonged to him and black leggings “Are you mad at me?” she is twisting the fabric at the end of her long sweatshirt in her hands, a nervous tick, and with a guilt in her eyes that directed at anyone else he would have labelled as fake, but…

They had made a promise back when they were kids.

When you’re an avatar of The Web, you become a vessel for lies, manipulation and deceit, so the siblings made the promise to tell each other _everything_ , be it good, or bad. So, he understands why Annabelle is so upset, she probably believes that he believes she has broken their promise.

He leaves his phone on the counter top and pulls the woman into a hug, he is not usually one for hugs, but this is his _sister_ in the verge of bursting into _tears_ , she cuddles against his shoulder.

“No, _princess_ , I’m not mad” he says, using that old nickname that Raymond gave her, and that still makes her giggle like a child. “I bet you would have told me eventually”.

“Yeah, Mike and I have been dating for… what? Three months, maybe?” she muses, before lifting her face to meet Jon’s eyes. “Should I invite him for dinner?”

“Why? He has access to Fairchild’s bank account, he should invite _us_ ” this makes her laugh.

He kisses her forehead as he pulls away when his phone rings. Annabelle can see the name _M. Blackwood_ on the touchscreen when her brother frowns at his phone.

“Hello? Martin?” he answers, still frowning, “What? Martin, you’re not making any sense! Breathe, in… out… yes, you’re doing well. Yeah, you’re welcome, now, what were you saying?” Annabelle takes advantage of his distraction to take his forgotten cup, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee and making a face, does her brother even know what sugar is?, “ _what_ ” Jon exclaims, catching her attention again, “no, no it’s fine, I’m on my way”.

“What’s wrong, Jon?”

“Jürgen Leitner is dead”.

She blinks at him.

“Yeah? He died when we were kids, Jon”.

“Yeah, but he wasn’t dead _dead_ ” he tries to explain.

“And now he is?” he shrugs, as if to say _I think so_ , then a pause, “Jon, what the fuck?”

“Language” he corrects, before realizing what he said and wondering if he is perhaps spending too much time with Martin, but he shakes his head, he can think about the redhead later, “we can talk later, I still have to go check up on the others” he says, putting his mobile phone on his breast pocket and zipping it up, before fumbling with his keys. “Uh, I don’t know when I’m going to be back, could you please feed Daisy?” the siblings turn to the fish tank in the living room where there are no fish, but rather a big tarantula, that is currently climbing the tallest rock on her terrarium as if to say _I’m here! Feed me!_ Jon quickly walks over and puts an end to that, the last time Daisy Jr. managed to reach the top of that rock she almost escaped from her tank (which doesn’t have a lid because it’s a house, not a prison). “Stay there” he tells the arachnid, carefully placing her back on the low part of her tank, where she, as if offended, goes to hide in a makeshift cave made of leaves.

“I think she is having her rebellious phase” Annabelle observes, sticking a hand into the tank to lightly caress one of the furry legs still visible as it sticks from beneath the leaves with a finger. “Maybe she would be happier if you feed her some live prey, how is she going to be healthy if you keep feeding her that weird stuff you bought at the pet shop?”

“Well, seems to me like the _weird stuff_ would have to suffice for tonight, I’m going back to the Institute” he warns, before kissing his sister’s cheek and grabbing his helmet.

* * *

Sasha sniffs as she wipes away her tears with her sweater sleeve, one of the officers kindly left a glass of water that she took a couple of sips from, but that doesn’t stop her tears from flowing, if anything, drinking water just keeps her body hydrated enough to keep producing tears.

The archive is swarming with cops and investigators and their breakroom is too small, so she is sitting outside the entrance to the archive on an uncomfortable plastic chair, with Tim sitting across from her, she doesn’t understand why, they had already testified, but the mean looking officer that is with them didn’t allow them to sit together, and he can see the dark-haired man’s pained expression every time she wipes her tears, how his hands twitch over his thighs, as if he wants to come over and comfort her. She would really like one of Tim’s hugs right now.

Footsteps come from down the hall leading to the archives entrance and the officer looks up from his phone, resuming his _bad cop_ attitude and walking over to confront the figure. Even from afar, she can see by the jacket that it’s Jon.

“Where do you think you’re going, lad?” he asks, unfriendly, when the shorter man gets close enough.

“I wish to speak with Detective Tonner”.

“She…, she is busy”, Sasha doesn’t miss the pause.

“Look, if you’re scared of her, just bring in Detective Hussain instead”.

“ _Listen_ ”

The door to the archives open, revealing the tall blond woman with the fierce brown eyes that introduced herself as _Detective Tonner_ and who took their testimonies, Martin is with her, and Sasha is surprised to see that they’re around the same height, but despite that, the redheaded man looks _intimidated_. Then again, that’s no surprise; Martin is the peaceful kind, after all, he shies away from confrontation whenever possible.

The officer that was with them quickly finds an excuse to go back inside.

“Hello, Daisy” Jon greets her, smiling and the detective nods and smiles back. Something in her brain clicks… _Daisy… Daisy_ , isn’t Daisy the name of Jon’s pet tarantula? “I see that you have met Martin, Tim and Sasha”.

“Yeah, and no one seems like my murderer” she declares.

“Murderer?” Jon repeats, and then looks at Martin, who is not even looking at him, rather going through his bag as if looking for something, he pursues his lips. “Well, I guess there goes Jürgen Leitner…”

“Jürgen Leitner? Oh, god, Jon… where’s Gerry?” Jon chuckles. “I’m serious, Sims!”

Tim had taken this distraction to get up from his chair and kneel in front of Sasha, who looks at him with big wet eyes. He looks at the ongoing discussion between a delighted Jon and an angry police officer and shakes his head, opting for caressing Sasha’s cheek with his thumb instead, she leans into the touch.

“I’m here” he says, sweetly, and looking at her like she is only thing in the room that matters, “it’s okay, everything will be fine”.

And, even as fresh tears pour from her eyes, she believes him.

* * *

Elias has given them a week off to recover from, in his words, an unfortunate and traumatic event.

That’s why Sasha is now snuggled on her couch with Tim as Martin types away on his phone and Jon is outside the flat, talking on the phone with his sister. She was scared that her dad somehow found out about this whole thing, but so far, so good, he hasn’t called yet, she wonders if is going to recover enough for their planned brunch on Saturday, he was excited to introduce her to his new girlfriend Stella and she was excited to meet her.

“All done” Jon announces, entering the flat again and sitting in the floor, next to the coffee table. “Anna’s boyfriend will stay the night with her, though I don’t get why she got mad at me when I told her Mike could sleep in my room? Sorry that I wanted your boyfriend to feel comfortable, I guess”.

“Jon, oh my god, you can’t just-…” Sasha says, unable to contain her laughter and finish the sentence.

“What are you, eighty?” Tim complains in between laughs, “do you welcome her boyfriend with a shotgun too? Jesus, Jon. Hey, hold on, how did you call her if you have her phone?”

“She used her boyfriend’s” he shrugs.

They had found Annabelle’s phone untouched on Jon’s desk, who had been very embarrassed by her ringtone choice for his contact, even if his friends didn’t understand why she would pick such music. Ugh, if he hears that song just one more time…

_…Cry little sister (thou shall not fall), come, come to your brother (thou shall not die), unchain me, sister (thou shall not fear), love is with your brother…_

“Martin!” he chides as the redhead smiles smugly (as smugly as someone like Martin is able) at him from across the coffee table.

“I knew I recognized that song! It’s from Blutengel! I love that band! Annabelle has great musical taste”, he declares, turning the music on his phone off.

“I have to agree” Tim intervenes, “but isn’t it a bit dark for you, Martin?”

“I had a goth phase, okay?”

Sasha is delighted to hear the familiar banter between her friends. Tim managed to make up with both Martin and Jon, explaining that the reason he got so heated up was because the book _Balance and Fear_ happened to be one he had read when researching Smirke, he had thought that it was a philosophical essay at best and a poor attempt at a horror story at worst, but the book talks about the manifestations of the entity known as _The Web_ , about how those possessed by it are not to be believed and that information combined with what he knew about Jon’s strange fixation on spiders made him think the worst. Jon had brushed it off, like he was used to being labelled a liar.

As for Martin, well, he can’t stay mad at someone he cares about for long, can he now? He seems more relaxed now that they know that, yes; he is part of the Lukas family and yes, he is related to Peter “ _creepy boat captain”_ Lukas, even though he knows him as _Uncle Peter_ and, yes, Peter is sadly on the process of becoming Mr. Lukas-Bouchard _again_.

“I just don’t get it” he admits when the conversation steers back into his family, “how many times does he need to make that mistake to understand it’s a bad idea?” His friends burst into laughter and he smiles.

When the laughter subsides, Sasha sighs and looks at Jon.

“What happens now?”

“You tell me” he answers, “what happens now?”

Tim and Martin look at her as she ponders about current events.

If she is going to serve an eldritch fear god, she may as well be informed.

“I want to know everything” she decides after a long, long pause, talking a tape recorder out of her handbag, “maybe it’s time for that statement you promised?” Jon nods as she presses the start button.

“Say your line, _archivist”._

“Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding…”

“A childhood encounter with a book formerly possessed by Jürgen Leitner and my time in Hill Top Road” she nods.

“Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding a childhood encounter with a book formerly possessed by Jürgen Leitner and his subsequent time in Hill Top Road, Sasha James recording” she repeats, “Statement begins…”

“Now, you will be surprised to find that I don’t feel any contempt towards Jürgen Leitner despite his childish belief that he could guard the delicate books he found, let me explain to you why…” and Jon starts to talk, he talks about how he became an orphan living with his grandmother, how much he liked to read, and how is that same love for reading that ended up with him face to face with a Leitner book. He can see his friends’ faces fixated on him as he recalls every page of that book. “As for what happened at the end of the book? I don’t know” he shrugs, their faces contorted in disbelief, as he finishes the first part of the statement. “I woke up in my grandmother’s house with a bandage on my shoulder; apparently I had been attacked by a wild animal in one of my… _excursions_.

“My grandmother was a very tidy person, but after that incident I could see that there were a lot more cobwebs than usual in the house. A few weeks later, after my wound healed, I met Raymond Fielding; he filled my grandma’s head with promises of a boarding school for gifted young boys, a school that was more than ready to welcome me with open arms, it was fair for everyone, I guess, so she accepted”, he explains, “Raymond was nice, he didn’t treat me like a little kid even if I was the youngest in Hill Top Road, he introduced me to the rest, explaining that I was his nephew that he was taking the tutelage of because I was an orphan, I didn’t call out on his lie, and I bet he was counting on that. He made sure I had all the books I wanted by giving me access to his personal library, and for the first two weeks that was it, he just let me be and observed.

“Raymond wasn’t exactly what you would call a fatherly figure, but he showed more interest in me than in the other kids there. One night, after I finished telling him about the latest book I read, I’m sure I wasn’t very articulate back then, but he listened to me regardless, he told me the real reason as to why I was in Hill Top Road. To Raymond, the fact that I had survived the encounter with Mr. Spider with nothing but a nasty scar that to this day I still have, meant that I was marked by the Mother, that I was a chosen one, _his_ chosen one and I took it without question, because it made me feel important.

“Annabelle came to live with us a couple of weeks after that, Raymond had charmed Anna’s parents the way he had my grandmother. I still remember how he introduced her to me: _Jon, this is Annabelle; she will live with us from now on. She is your sister and you will therefore treat her as such_. I was eight and she was six, but while I was Raymond’s chosen one, he knew that Anna was special; she was a natural when it came to manipulation and deceit, all of that were things she learned from her own mother, after all”, Sasha frowns. “I know how this must sound to you, but I assure it isn’t what you’re thinking. Like I said, I have always felt that my grandmother resented me, while Anna had always had to fight her seven siblings for crumbs of affection from her parents. Raymond gave us that affection we craved and so much more, he gave us the family and sense of belonging that we were missing.

“Anna and I didn’t interact much at first, even if we both spend a lot of time in the same room; she played with the few toys she owned and I was busy with my books, but she grew bored. She used to instigate fights between her biological siblings, do things that would get them in trouble and, small and young as she was, she thought she could do the same in Hill Top Road, somehow she always managed to came back unscathed, but that first time I followed her, afraid that one of the older boys she was so set on pestering wouldn’t have a problem getting back at her, Raymond said she was my sister now, how could I not make sure she didn’t get hurt? Like I said, she was fine every time, and I found myself joining in her mischief, I suppose I got tired of being a mere spectator?

“Anyways, she would plant the seed of trouble and I would then step in and escalate things, did one of the older boys call her mean names? I was there to call _them_ even worse names. Did one of them steal candy or money that Raymond have given her? I was more than ready to scream at them to give it back, this was, in Anna’s eyes, a show of loyalty, she started trying to play with me, _really_ play with me, like kids do, we shared toys and, since she didn’t know how to read yet, I found myself reading her passages from my books, she would even sneak into my room when she had nightmares and wanted company.

“This went on and on, by the time Anna had spent six months in Hill Top Road everyone knew not to mess with her, so we were itching to get a new house sibling we could _play_ with. I had a bit more of a moral compass than Anna, so I knew that what we were doing was wrong, but I had acquired an ability to _taste_ lies, a form of strange supernatural synaesthesia you could say, and you have _no idea_ how sweet does a well-crafted lie taste, it may have been wrong but that sweetness was worth any misdemeanour in my eyes.

“Finally, a new face came to our humble house. His name was Anthony, he was sixteen and a bully, we spent a couple days just watching him, planning our moves and letting him get comfortable. The morning of his eight day there, the show started, Anna accused him of entering her room to steal some pennies Raymond have given her, which I immediately demanded back telling him how I will tell Raymond and how bad that would be for him. Turns out, there was a fault in our plan. Suffice to say, I ended up running for my life in fear of a beating, because Anthony did not know that I was Raymond’s son and he wanted to put me in my place. Unluckily for us, Raymond had also asked Amanda, another of the kids there, to polish the wooden upper floor leading to the stairs, and that combined with the fact that I didn’t tie my shoelaces properly made me trip onto the hard wood, I remember the pain shooting through me when I landed on my face” he winces. “Anthony got the worst part though, he tripped as well, but he fell down the stairs.

“Raymond came out of his study due to the commotion and sent us Annabelle and I both down into the basement where no one was allowed; let me tell you, it was exactly like Sinclair described it to you, word for word, so it was us and the spiders waiting for our punishment. I was sure that this was it, I was going to be returned to my grandmother like the horrible child I was and I wouldn’t see Annabelle, my playmate, my partner in crime, my little sister, ever again. That’s the first time I saw Annabelle cry for real. Now, I should remind you, I can taste both lies _and_ truths, and you have no idea how _bitter_ can tears be when they’re poured by your little sister, who is crying because she may never see you again. However, Raymond surprised us; he came in and took a crying Annabelle from my arms, telling her that pretty girls were not allowed to cry in his house, that he wasn’t mad at us, that he had been observing our little lying games and he saw _potential_ in us, he had only intervened just now because he saw that I had gotten hurt.

“He took us out of the house later that day; we went to the toy store, where we picked a toy each, then to the candy store to buy as much chocolates as our small hands could carry, everywhere we went Raymond was well-received, especially after telling his sob story about how he was our uncle, taking care of us because our father had died and we had nowhere to go, but how he felt like we were his own. Was it a lie, though? My father had died when I was a baby and Anna’s was so absent he might as well been dead. His words didn’t sound like lies to me. We never saw Anthony again after that day.

“We were allowed to continue our games and every time we succeeded we would be rewarded with another trip to the candy store and the toy store, which was almost always. He would shower us in affection and expensive gifts that would make kids our age green with envy. It felt natural, when Raymond started telling us he loved us and Anna started referring to him as _Daddy_ , I did the same and started to refer him as my father. I was his heir and Anna his prodigy, and we spent the next five years like that, like the family we were always supposed to be.

“Good things don’t last, I’m afraid, you had heard Ivo Lensik’s statement, the time we spent with Raymond in the house wasn’t that long to leave a mark, and I guess the neighbours preferred to remember the troublemakers he hosted over the siblings he had so lovingly devoted himself to. I don’t know how Agnes did it, but she was the owner of the house, _our house_. At the time of Raymond’s disappearance I was thirteen and Anna was eleven, so neither of us could legally acquire it and we were afraid that we would be separated, the question was _are we going back to our biological families or to an orphanage?_ Neither option was appealing, but Raymond always took care of us, and when my grandmother showed up with custody papers that established she was also Annabelle’s legal guardian I just knew it was his doing. That combined with the fact that, well, I know that daddy long legs spiders are extremely common, like, I’m seeing one right now over there in the corner, but they were my father’s favourite and we would find them e _verywhere_ , I even found one on a cup of tea once. Anna told me: _Jon, I’m sure this means Daddy is watching over us still_ and I don’t know if our kind could hope for an afterlife if there is one, but I hope that Anna was right…

“Well, now you know why I can’t hate Jürgen Leitner, I mean, yes he was nothing but a spoiled child playing with powers he didn’t even understand, but it was one of his books that lead me to find my sister and my father”

“Wow…” Sasha breathes out, then she coughs, surprised at how hoarse she sounds, “I guess I should… call my dad”.

“Sasha, you’re crying…” Tim informs her and when she wipes her cheek, her fingers come back wet.

“So, are you, Tim” retorts a sniffling Martin, whose freckles shine because of the wetness on his own cheeks. “Why are we all crying?”

“It was a very emotional story” Tim shrugs, wiping at his eye with the heel of his hand, when did _he_ start crying? He figures is not the story itself, but rather the way Jon talked about Annabelle that got him emotional, since it reminds him of how _he_ talks about his own younger brother Danny and all the mischief they were up to together when they were kids. “It kind of makes sense now, y’know?” he asks Jon, who frowns in confusion “the guy I interviewed told me that he worried about you because you tended to mess with the older boys, and now I know why, you were doing to keep them from hurting Annabelle”, and Tim understands, of course he does, he would have done exactly the same for Danny, the other nods, getting up from the table.

“Jon, I have two questions” he nods as Sasha counts with her fingers, “one, how come Elias just allows you to vibe around the Institute? And two, how does your lie detector synaesthesia thing work?” Tim chuckles at the term.

“One, I truly came to the Institute out of my love for learning and I guess he appreciates that, well, that and the fact that this way he can keep a closer _eye_ on me so I don’t become too much of a nuisance. As for the second, it’s kind of… I get, like, a taste in my mouth when someone talks to me, but unlike normal synaesthesia, the flavour changes when it’s a lie or a truth, to be honest, almost all of my first conversation with each of you was rather bitter…”

“Almost?” Sasha presses, seeing Jon trying to hide his smile as he looks over at Martin. She cocks an eyebrow.

“What?” he demands.

“You’ve quite the sweet name, _Mr. Blackwood_ ” now the redhead blushes up to the tip of his ears. “Well, now if you would excuse me, I need a cigarette” Jon says, taking a pack from his jacket and heading for the balcony.

Sasha follows Jon’s departure with her gaze, wondering if she should bring up something else that Jürgen Leitner told her. She ultimately decides against it, it has been enough raw emotion for one night, and that they should call for some takeaway, probably pizza, when she notices Martin absentmindedly scrolling on his phone, while his free hand is _toying with a gold medallion_.

“Martin…” she murmurs, horrified. “Where did you get that medallion?”

“Ah? Oh, it was a gift from Uncle Peter when I ‘joined the family’”, he draws quotation marks in the air, “pretty isn’t it? Say what you want about Elias, but he is the one who found it today when I thought that I lost it and-…” he stops, staring at her. “Uh, hey, are you okay, Sash? You’re looking a little pale”.

“Sasha?” the worry echoes in Tim’s voice as she allows herself to fall back into the plush cushions of her couch and he places a tentative hand on her right shoulder, “Sasha, please, answer me”.

They’re right there next to her but she feels as if she’s very, very far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Cry Little Sister (Blutengel)
> 
> I'm not going to lie to you, dear readers, the statement was really hard to make, but I hope that y'all liked it!
> 
> The bit about the Lukas family crest is based on Naomi Herne's statement (#13 'Alone') where she says she found a piece of tombstone with the word "Forgotten" on it.


	6. Memories and music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon recalls a memory from his childhood, Sasha thinks things through, Tim may have a new lead on his research and Martin has questions that only Jon can answer.

Jon squints at the sunlight that peeks through the blinds of his bedroom window, it’s a bit early to be up, so he just lies in bed for a moment, fighting the last remnants of sleep while still clinging to the dream he was just having, usually he doesn’t mind the dreams, he doesn’t even remember them by the time he is out of the door to go to work, but he doesn’t want to forget this particular one… because his father was there, he had been dreaming a lot about him recently, after giving his statement to Sasha. He is able to piece together bits of the dream and is surprised to find that he can do it so easily.

Then his eyes open wide as he realises, that it wasn’t a dream, but a memory.

It was a bit before he had hit the one year mark of his stay at Hill Top Road, yes, he remembers now _._

 _He was in his bedroom, the others kids had to share their rooms, but he and Annabelle had rooms of their own. Closing his eyes he can almost picture it as if he is there, the dark velvet curtains covering the tall windows, the night beyond them a blanket of darkness. He stayed late_ again _because he was reading yet another gripping mystery book; his lights were off due to Raymond’s strict bedtime policy but he was still engrossed in his book, reading with the aid of a small torch, not for long though, as Annabelle came to his room not too long after, quietly sobbing. He did what any big brother would do and allowed Anna to get under the covers with him, and, not knowing what to do; he hugged her like he had done that one time when they had thought they were in trouble._

_“What’s wrong, Anna?” he whispered, staring at the ajar door, hoping no one else was awake, he knew Anna didn’t like when people that wasn’t him or Raymond saw her crying._

_“I had an ugly dream”._

_“An ugly dream?” he repeated, “what about?”_

_“I… I dreamt my mummy came here to take me back to her house, away from you and Daddy…” she sobbed against his shoulder again and he shushed her as he petted her hair._

_Eventually, he managed to calm her down and she fell asleep, hugging him the way she hugged her stuffed animals, which was a bit uncomfortable, but she softened her grip in her sleep and then he finally relaxed and slept as well._

_He awoke an unknown amount of time later, when he heard movement next to him, only to see a shadowy figure shuffling next to his bed, pulling up the bedspread and blankets, tucking him in. There was only one person that could visit him in the middle of the night, so he reached over to his bedside table and turned the lights on, just to make sure._

_Raymond, dressed in his pyjamas and robe, blinked when the soft yellow glow of the lamp illuminated the room; he was holding the end of the bedspread._

_“Dad?” Jon asked._

_“Jon” he said, “it’s late, go back to sleep”._

_“Okay”._

_The man keep tucking him and Annabelle in, making sure they were properly covered. It was a cold night in Oxford, after all. When he finished and saw that he was still awake, he sighed as he sat on the edge of the bed; he smiled tiredly as he ran a hand through Jon’s short black hair._

_“Why is your sister here, Jon? She wasn’t in her room, but I saw your door open”._

_“She had a nightmare… she said she dreamt that her mum came and took her away, but that can’t happen, right, Dad?” a small note of fear found it’s way into his voice and he bit his lip, hoping Raymond wouldn’t notice. Looking back now and recalling his frown, he most likely did. “And what about my grandmother, can she come and take me away? I don’t want to go back to her house, Dad”, his voice broke in the last half as he tried to hold back sobs, what if Annabelle was right? What if their families decided to come and take them away?_

_The world he had known had seemed so distant, so…_ bland _; he didn’t want to go back to it. He wanted to stay there, in Hill Top Road with his_ real _family._

_“You won’t go back there, Jon, you and your sister belong here with me and the Mother for as long as I have a say in it” he explained, smiling softly as he dried his tears, up until then he hadn’t even realised he had been crying. “I’m not your father by blood, but I am your father and you’re my son, nothing will change that, okay?” Raymond leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Now go back to sleep, you have lessons in the morning”._

Jon sighs, it often feels like that moment had been a lifetime ago. Thinking back now, what had Raymond meant by saying _“as long as I have a say in it”_? Had he somehow know that Agnes was going to kill him?

It doesn’t matter, what happened, happened. It’s not like he can go back in time and save Raymond from the gruesome death he had at the hands of Agnes Montague, but he can work to make things better for those around him now. He sits in bed and realises that there’s some noise in the kitchen, that’s weird, Annabelle is usually still sleeping by the time he leaves.

“Good morning!” Annabelle greets him with a kiss on the cheek as she places a plate with eggs, toast and beans in front of him. “I got up earlier, so I figured I could make you breakfast before you leave!” he thanks her and starts to eat. “Oh, hey, I will probably come back late, apparently Simon and Harriet Fairchild want to meet me” there’s a bit of nervousness in her voice, and Jon smiles reassuringly. “It’s important for Mike, so” she shrugs.

“Ah, I’m sure they will be delighted by how lovely you’re” he assures her, making her smile.

“Yeah, I’ve to go see a client first, someone called me about those emeralds I was telling you about the other day?” he nods. “They offered quite the generous amount for them, but I’m taking some other jewels to show them, the wife looked like she could use a pair of _economic_ diamonds earrings as well”, she winks, before placing her own plate in the table.

Jon shakes his head, Annabelle had decided to delve into the expensive business of jewellery selling a couple years ago, she got interested after he got her the spider brooch for her birthday, and so far she is doing great. It is a surprisingly fitting endeavour for someone like his sister; in his eyes she is like the jewels she sells, beautiful and brilliant. She even helped him with… oh, wait…

“Anna?” she hums as she scoops some beans with her fork. “Could you find the… ah, the thing I asked for?” She smiles and, seemingly out of nowhere but probably her pocket, she takes a small, rectangular and velvety black box. Jon feels his cheeks heat up and he hates it, a man his age shouldn’t be blushing, but then he frowns at her smug smile. “Don’t laugh at me”.

“Aw, I’m not laughing at you, Jon, I think it’s very sweet” she winks again and pushes the box towards him. “I got exactly what you asked for, a pair of gold earrings in the shape of spiders”.

He opens it, they look beautiful, and the jewel is the exact colour he asked for.

“What jewel is this?” he asks softly as his fingers brush against the surface of the gem that serves as the spider’s body.

“Polished blue lace Agatha, not the most luxurious or expensive, but you asked for a jewel that matched the colour of the sea. This kind of Agatha looks downright _gorgeous_ on people with blue eyes” ah, he is starting to see why his sister is such a good saleswoman. “Spiritually speaking, blue lace Agatha is known for being a jewel that represents communication, it is said to help those who have difficulty being heard by others, or who need confidence and articulation to share their truths. It provides clarity of thought in regards to what matters most…” he blinks at her and his confusion must have been funny because she bursts into laughter.

“What in the world, Anna?”

“You should have seen your face! Anyways, Oliver lent me some books about crystals he found in his shop and you will not believe how much it made the sales increase! Even posh snobs like hearing about the _magic_ of crystals. That’s why I love Oliver so much, he is out there making my life easier” the fondness in her tone and her smile makes him smile back.

“You need help with the dishes?”

“Ah, no, don’t worry, you just go, I don’t want you to be late for work”.

* * *

Sasha opens the sliding door to her balcony, letting the early morning sun wash over her. There’s a slightly cold breeze that has her rubbing her arms over her light sweater, but she doesn’t mind as she walks over to lay her arms on the railing as she stares at the already awake city. Usually, by this time, she is already at the Institute, recording statements, and trying to organize the mess that Gertrude has left behind for her. She hates that she has been chosen for this.

She feels as if some unknown force has stuck parts of her life into a blender and pressed the button until all that she was left with was a nasty, undrinkable milkshake where you can’t tell things apart from the other.

Dammit, now she wants a milkshake.

The front door of her flat opens, but she does n0t pay attention to it. At least not until a shawl that was previously thrown across the couch is pulled around her. She looks over her shoulder to see Tim looking down at her with amusement in his eyes. They exchanged keys a few nights ago, since he is the one who lives the closer to her flat and with the current situation it is for the best to be prepared.

“I hope you’re not trying to get sick again” he murmurs, placing his arms around her waist and his chin on her shoulder. “We need our boss in tip top shape, Sasha, we should not be without supervision, you know”.

“Nah, I trust you boys to keep the ship afloat while I’m gone” she says, letting her head fall back on Tim’s shoulder, despite the cold, he is _so_ warm. “Plus, I’m going back tomorrow anyways”.

After the whole Leitner deal she had gotten sick, she wasn’t sure what happened, but it wasn’t a big deal, it happened the morning after the murder and the boys had stayed the night so she wasn’t alone. Tim took her to the doctor in his car, and the gentle doctor had diagnosed her with a stress induced sickness and told her to go easy for the next two weeks. When she got back, Martin had cleaned around her flat a bit and Jon was in the process of making lunch. She is lucky to have those three to watch her back.

Tim even took a further step and dropped by several times during these two weeks, often bringing gifts like chocolates and cookies from Martin and books from Jon.

“I hope you had rested enough, because there’s lot to do, Elias told us we will have a new co-worker down in the archives next week, oh, and we’re totally having a meeting when you get back, I just can’t wait to see what bullshit he comes up with next” the deadpan tone makes her burst into giggles, and Tim smiles at that.

“Shouldn’t you be there already?”

“Look, if what Grandma Gertrude’s tape said about being unable to quit is real and Jon’s theory about being unable to be fired are correct, then Elias and his creepy shit can wait. I just needed to know if you were doing fine, which you seem to be, you look radiant”.

“I’m on my pyjamas and I haven’t brushed my hair yet!”

“I know what I said and I stand by it, Miss James, you look beautiful” Tim is looking at her with such an intensity that she can’t help but blush, she turns in his arms to hug his waist and hide her face on his shoulder so he doesn’t see. She is surprised that after all that happened between them, he can still make her feel butterflies. “Why don’t we go inside? I really mean it when I said I don’t want you to catch a cold” he gently murmurs into her hair.

They go back inside, where the television is playing some news, but they pay it no mind as they sit on the couch and he takes her hand.

Sasha has been considering things these past two weeks.

One of those things was her relationship with Tim, which was a complicated one.

“Tim… I-”

“Good morning, Pumpkin!” says Sasha’s father opening the door to the flat.

“Dad!” she says, leaping to her feet.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t know you had company. Hello… Tom?”

“Tim!” she corrects quickly.

“Tim, yeah, that’s it! Heh, sorry, it’s the age, lad. How are you?”

“I’m doing well, sir, thank you for asking! Uh, I just came by to see how Sash was doing, but, better go to the office! Someone has to make sure Jon and Martin don’t set the archives on fire!” he says in a rush, but his eyes soften when they land on her, “I will see you tomorrow, Sash”.

Once Tim closes the door behind him, Dean turns to his daughter and smiles.

“Sash?” he asks, making his daughter blush. “What a nice young man, even looks like boyfriend material” he says, making Sasha blush harder.

* * *

When Tim reaches the archives, he finds a curious scene; Jon is kneeling in the floor, presenting Martin with a small, black velvet box and Martin himself is looking at him with wide eyes, blushed a light pink up to the tip of his ears.

He does what every reasonable person would have done in that situation; he takes a picture with his phone.

“TIM!” Martin yells, now completely red upon noticing him in the staircase, he hides the phone quickly. “Ah… um, we were…”

“I was giving him a gift and I dropped it” Jon explains calmly, his cheeks a darker shade than usual.

“Sure thing” he shrugs, then takes a look at the corkboard they used to leave silly memos on, now polluted with pictures, handwritten notes and red strings that Jon has been setting up since they got back to work, he notices a new addition, on a corner. “What do you have there?”

A part of him still over analyses whatever comes out of Jon’s mouth after the reveal of him being an avatar of The Web, and Tim doesn’t really like it. Yeah, avatars of The Web lie and withhold information if Smirke’s book was anything to go by, but it would be unfair to the other man if he doesn’t gives him the benefit of the doubt. After all, Jon tried to explain the entities thing to both him and Sasha when he could have just told her, since Tim is, in Jon’s words, not “claimed” just “touched”, whatever that means.

Jon is also the one who helped his investigation regarding the circus the most, thanks to him he now knows about The Circus of the Other, how the Great Grimaldi is part of the entity known as the Stranger, and he also taught him certain _motifs_ he can look out for to identify it in statements.

“I figured we can make a list of already attempted rituals that we don’t have to worry about”, he explains, gesturing towards it. “I think that’s what Elias will tell us when Sasha gets back”.

“Elias wants us to stop a ritual?” Tim repeats. “Is that possible?”

“Gertrude Robinson did it for decades, if an old woman could do it, I bet we can too” he shrugs, then he turns to Martin. “Does your family have a ritual?”

Tim turns to his friend, who has frozen in place, his hand tightly holding the handle of a tea mug and his face looks a little pale.

“Uh…”

“Martin” Jon chides, exasperated by the lack of answer, “calm down, nobody is accusing you” the redhead nods, avoiding his eyes and playing with the hem of his knit jumper. “Does your family have a ritual, yes or no?”

“…yes” is the hesitant answer he gets. “Yes, we have a ritual, but you don’t have to worry about it, okay? Uncle Peter attempted it but it failed and-…”

“What was it called?” he interrupts, before the other can ramble on.

“Uncle Peter called it _The Silence_ , but he said himself that it’s a lame name”.

“Alright, poet, what would _you_ have called it?” Tim teases; Martin frowns at that, thoughtful.

“I mean, is not really a bad name? Just a bit… bland, I would have used a twist, maybe an oxymoron? Maybe something like: _The Deafening Silence_ , it sounds better” then he perks up, “or better yet! _The Unending Solitude!_ It gets the point across!”

“What was the ritual about?”

“I have no idea” he admits, scratching the back of his neck, “but why did you asked if we _have_ one? Are there entities that don’t have them?”

“Yeah, out of the fourteen powers, there’s two: The Web and The End, Anna’s best friend is an avatar of the last one and we agreed that perhaps our patrons prefer the world as it is. Well, I think that’s it for today, I can tell you both more about it tomorrow when Sasha gets back, now I have something else we can work on”.

“Sure thing, what’s next, Bossman?” Tim jokes and he feels a little proud when the hint of a smile shows itself in the corner of Jon’s mouth.

“Do you remember my friends Daisy and Basira down in Section 31? They’re working on a case, a kidnapping, and by their description I believe it has to do with Dark avatars, probably The People’s Church of the Divine Host”.

“Which is a super lame name” Martin points out, “I mean, it’s, like, not even related to the entity they worship. At least you know what it is about with the Cult of the Lightless Flame”.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong, but what does your family answer when people ask them about their patron?” Jon retorts, smiling softly, almost imperceptibly, but Tim still notices.

“We just say we’re very religious, what do _you_ say when people ask about yours?”

“The Web is also known as The Mother of Puppets, Raymond never married or had kids but he was devoted to our patron, he believed that because of that, the Mother picked both Anna and me as gifts for him, therefore, Raymond is our father and the Spider our mother, she served _us_ so we serve _her_ ”.

Martin can’t help but notice that parts of his friend’s speech are… strange, like they’re someone else’s words, especially on the last part, maybe he is quoting Raymond? Anyways, that as good answer as any, even if he is now picturing Jon’s mother as a giant spider with a pink apron. Meanwhile, Tim, who doesn’t want to interrupt the cute moment his friends seem to be having, concentrates in looking for a certain file in his computer. A little excel sheet with case numbers.

“Here you go” he says, bringing the attention back to himself “bless Sasha and her organizational skills, when we started organizing the archive she made this little list where she put down statements that had similar themes or mentioned certain places, like Hill Top Road or Hither Green chapel, or names that were mentioned more than once like Mikaele Salesa or anyone with the last name Lukas” he explains, awaiting expectantly for his friend’s reactions.

Martin nods; of course Sasha would have thought that his family’s name popping up every now and then would be strange. Jon, on the other hand, looks thoughtful.

“How many statements are there about Hill Top Road?”

“Hm… let’s see… one, two, three… four statements, the first three are different accounts of the same event, while the last one is the Sinclair one, if you want to add off the record statements, yours makes five”.

“I see, can you e-mail me the file?”

“E-mail you?” he repeats, half amused, half surprised, “Man, I will just send you the drive link”

“The what?”

“I will send you the drive link, Jon, as in the _Google Drive_ link?” Jon only blinks at him. “Oh, my god; just…, here, just copy it down…”

* * *

Martin could stay here _forever_.

Here, in this room that smells like dried ink and old books, this room where music is softly playing from his phone as he looks through the boxes, this room that he despised having to stay in after Prentiss trapped him in his flat (because he didn’t want to bother his Nana or his Uncle Nathaniel with that kind of thing, he can’t depend on them for everything), but the fact that now he is here _alone_ with Jon is everything he ever wanted.

He hates that he sounds like a hopelessly lovesick schoolboy thinking like that, but well, what can you do? At this point, he is happy just being Jon’s friend, even if deep down he still has a little hope that he could be more.

Taking his eyes off of the statements in his hands, he risks a glance at his companion, while he preferred to sit comfortably in the cot as they searched for the ones regarding The People’s Church of the Divine Host, the shorter man has sit on the floor with a couple of boxes. As usual, his hair is neatly slicked back; he is wearing a white dress shirt, a tan sweater and dark grey jeans, he always wondered why Jon, so insistent in professionalism that he is, didn’t come to work in a suit, but now that he knows the other man has a motorcycle his wardrobe choice makes more sense.

Martin sees him thoughtfully biting his lip as he reads over the paper in his hand; he can’t help but mirror the gesture, finding it endearing when Jon frowns at the words in front of him.

_I fell in love today; there aren’t any words that you can say that could get my mind to change…_

Damn his music choices.

_You’re a doll, you’re flawless… but I just can’t wait for love to destroy us, I just can’t wait for love. Your only flaw, you’re flawless…_

Jon, luckily, doesn’t seem to be paying attention to the music as he piles statements next to him, something he is grateful for.

He should be talking to him, really, instead of worrying about the music. There’s something he had been hoping to tell him for a while now, something that has nothing to do with his feelings. If anyone he knows can know anything about it, it has to be Jon. Given the nature of the subject he figures both his Uncle Peter and Elias do know too, but it’s not like he can ask _them_ about it. He bites his bottom lip as he ponders what the best way to ask it is.

The song ends, and, instead of simply asking Jon, he hands him his phone so he picks a song this time. Is only fair, he says, that he listens to some music that he likes, Martin is curious as to what could it be, classical, maybe? Jon does strike him as the kind to listen to Vivaldi and Mozart, or maybe opera like his Nana does, Pavarotti, perhaps?

_I could corrupt you, in a heartbeat. You think you’re so special, think you’re so sweet. What are you trying? Don’t even tempt me, soon you’ll be crying, and wishing you’d dreamt me. You’d be calling out my name, when you need someone to blame…_

“Is that Depeche Mode?” Jon nods without looking at him, “You like Depeche Mode?” he can’t help but ask as Jon hands the phone back.

“Is it really so surprising?”

“Well, you do strike me as the more _classical_ type”.

“I do listen to classic music sometimes” he admits. “Not at home, though, it drives Anna up the wall. Raymond raised us listening to David Bowie, so you may understand why”.

“Really, your dad was into glam rock?”

“Yeah” he smiles upon hearing him refer to Raymond that way, Martin noticed that Jon himself had only started to do so after he came out of the supernatural closet to them as an avatar. “Do you like Bowie?”

“Ah, I don’t know, I have only listened to Under Pressure, the one he sings with Queen”.

“You _what_ , unacceptable, hand that phone back” Martin does as he is told, curious as to what could Jon do. “Your music choosing privileges had been revoked, Mr. Blackwood Lukas”.

For a while, Martin listens to whatever Jon played for him, he wasn’t one for glam rock before, but now he surely is.

Yeah, Martin could really stay here forever.

* * *

“I can’t believe _you_ of all people had a punk phase” Martin says, before taking a bite out of his burger.

“Do I really look _that_ stuck up?”

They had decided to take a break from their task to have lunch in the extremely small table of the breakroom (Tim had left a bit before to do some research on his own, most likely about the circus, but he promised to text every hour or so), Martin is surprised at how much they have in common when it comes to music, and he is more than delighted to learn about Jon’s punk past.

“Not really, you just look very serious and professional, one day you have to show me your leather jacket with patches; I bet you still have it”.

“Only if you show me yours”, he concedes, taking a sip of his bottled water. “Was it really a Goth phase like you told Tim or were you more punk leaning?”

“I mean, rebellious wasn’t something that I could be at home, given my, um, situation, between that and the poetry I think it was more _Goth_ than _Punk._ But isn’t it crazy? Maybe we were even at the same shows back then and didn’t even know about it!”

“Nah, I think we were in different parts of the scene. Say, what band did you like more, The Clash or the Sex Pistols?”

“The Pistols, duh” he answers almost automatically.

“Martin, you’re literally breaking my heart right now”.

“ _God Save the Queen_ is a punk hymn, Jon!”

“So is _London Calling_ , Martin”.

He narrows his eyes at him, and Jon imitates him, they stare each other down for a few moments, before they burst into laughter. When it subsides, they keep eating in comfortable silence. They had both ordered two burgers with a big side of fries that were disappearing quicker than the rest of the food; such is the case with fries.

“Jon?” Martin asks after a while.

“Hm?” he hums as an answer, unable to do much more with his mouth full.

“You seem to know a lot about our world, like, really, you must be the most knowledgeable person I know when it comes to Entities and stuff…”

“Well, can you blame me? Our world is fascinating; I don’t understand why people don’t want to study it in deep, some people just learn some stuff about their own patron and call it a day, you know?”

“What’s the attraction, I mean, what is the thing that makes you want to learn?”

Martin knows such question can only open a can of worm-, ugh, no, no, terrible metaphor. Martin just knows that he is about to hear one of Jonathan Sims’ trademark info-dumps and he is more than happy to listen.

“I guess… I don’t know, our world is as complex and natural as that of the ‘real’ world, it has so many layers and variables and factors. I have been studying it for most of my life, really, and there are _still_ things that I don’t know, it’s a never ending source of curiosities. I don’t really have a thing that I particularly like to study more than others, except maybe the connections between us? In our world is not strange to hear about, let’s say, an avatar of The Desolation who associates with an avatar of The Slaughter, or an avatar of The Eye that knows an avatar of The Lonely” here he looks at the ceiling before looking at him again and Martin giggles when he realizes to whom his friend is referring to. “I myself know most of the avatars that reside in England, it’s very interesting how no matter which Patrons do we serve we find our ways to each other”.

“Interesting indeed” he approves, before taking a sip of his coke. “Have the entities always been the same?”

“Not really, they change with times when humans develop new fears or their fears take new forms. The current fourteen that Smirke theorized about has been in place since around the time of the Industrial Revolution”.

Martin bites his lip, here goes nothing.

“Could it be possible for a new entity to… be born?”

“I mean, it’s not impossible per se, but-” he pauses, and then frowns. “Martin, why are you asking me about this?”

“I… I don’t think Elias is going to ask us to stop a ritual, I think he wants to stop the new fear from coming to life”.

“I don’t believe that’s possible, Martin, the only way to stop the entities would be to stop people from being afraid, but we both know that’s, well, not possible…”, he winces and the redhead nods, taking another fry. “Why do you think there’s a new fear waiting to emerge?”

“…Uncle Peter calls it _The Extinction_ ” he admits softly after some hesitation. “Elias probably knows about it too, but I didn’t want to ask _them_ about it”.

Jon doesn’t say anything for a while, thoughtfully staring at nothing in particular. Martin can’t help but to think that he ruined whatever nice conversation they had going on with his stupid non-sense worries. Why can’t he just shut up? Or better yet, why can’t he have the guts to ask his own uncle about it? Peter would have volunteered the information if he knew Martin wanted to learn… probably. After all, Peter is the one who taught him about their patron and their dynasty in the first place.

“We will have to investigate it further” he declares, nodding, before he smiles at Martin, his smile is warm and it makes the redhead’s worries melt. “Thank you for telling me, Martin”.

“Well, uh, thanks for listening to me, it was probably nothing but it had me worried. You know so much, are you sure you’re not secretly a beholding avatar?” Jon laughs at that. “Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute”.

“Maybe in another life” he concedes, “I think I know way too much to be useful to Elias”.

“If you say so…”

A thump, not unlike a door closing, comes from the main office. However, when he gets up to investigate, all he finds is an empty room.

* * *

Outside the institute, Tim gets into his car, clutching a piece of paper. He _really_ didn’t mean to eavesdrop in Martin and Jon’s conversation, okay? It’s just… he is really happy about Martin’s and Jon’s interactions lately, mostly he is happy for Martin, is good to know at least someone in that damned place is getting their relationship somewhere. Unlike him and… he shakes his head, then moves to place the paper slip into his wallet.

He stops, taking a moment to stare at the pictures he has there.

There are two pictures, one was taking the last time his family had a full table, a little before death claimed his father, Timothy Stoker Sr., and before one of Danny’s many travels, his mother, Hiroko, smiles at the camera in a way that manages to be both exasperated and fond. The second one, this one from his first week working on the archives, brings an unexpected pang of nostalgia, is not like it has been _that_ long, but they already look so different from back then. In the picture, Sasha is facing the camera, making a peace sign, while Tim himself is next to her, one arm around her waist and the other around Jon’s shoulders; he just awkwardly stands there with a smile while Martin shyly smiles from behind them, a steaming cup on his hands.

When did everything changed? When did they start to drift apart from each other? When did it start to feel that his friends were on an entirely different page from him?

It really doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter because he will fix this, he will find a way to bring the group together once again.

He turns the key and the engine comes to life, and before he can even notice the institute becomes a spot on the distance as he drives away. He has thing to do if he wants the group to be together again, he has an entire new kind fear to research.

On the passenger seat, his phone dings with a message from Martin asking him where is he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack: Flawless (The Neighbourhood), Corrupt (Depeche Mode)
> 
> Jon had a punk phase, and no, I don't take criticism.


	7. The New One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a new archival assitant in the Magnus Institute. Jon's friends love him but also love not minding their own business. Some new facts come to light.

**[Text conversation between Melanie King and Georgina Baker, Monday 09:47 a.m.]**

**Georgie:** So! How’s is the new job going?

 **Melanie:** Georgie, you have no idea! They bought me a _cake_ as a welcome, like, wtf, they’re so sweet.

 **Melanie:** And just so you know, I think _someone_ you might know ratted me out about liking lemon pie, but I’m not complaining.

 **Georgie:** See? I told you he would come around!

 **Melanie:** He is still mad that we “voted such an important decision without him”.

 **Georgie:** Hey, that’s not fair; we _did_ take his vote into consideration.

 **Melanie:** That’s what I have been saying! But whatever, maybe Gerry or Daisy can make him come to his senses :/

* * *

Sasha smiles at Martin when he brings her some tea after she has finished reading a statement. It has been a week since she is officially back. Elias has asked them to focus all of their research into the ritual of the Stranger, known as _The Dance of the Unknowing_ and they had been working non-stop with it, he had been kind enough (if you could say that about a man like Elias) to provide an extra pair of hands and eyes to help in the research.

Melanie King, avatar of the Slaughter, who had no shame on telling them so when she introduced herself, even if this wasn’t the first time they met. Melanie did come before to give a statement about her research on war ghosts, much to the displeasure of Jon, who she was apparently friends with.

“Now, ‘ _friends’_ is a bit of a strong word” she said with a wink.

When Sasha goes into the breakroom to rinse her empty mug, she finds Melanie and Jon arguing. Well, maybe not _arguing_ per se, her friend is arguing with the woman while she just smiles, sitting in one of the countertops. For a moment, she stands there, hearing how Jon is telling Melanie about _taking decisions without him_ and the danger of the Institute, which, by the way he says it, Sasha thinks he means it’s not the institute that is dangerous in itself, but rather the person who runs it, and, after Leitner, she can’t help but agree.

“Hello, Sasha” Melanie greets her, still smiling and causing Jon to stop mid-sentence.

She feels her cheeks burn, feeling she had done something wrong.

“Oh, sorry, I just-…”

“It’s fine” Melanie assures, jumping from the countertop. “Move your arse, Sims, the lady wants to wash her cup” she instructs Jon, who rolls his eyes but complies. “Hey, how is Annabelle doing? I haven’t seen her in a while!”

“Fine, thanks for asking, she just came back yesterday from staying at her boyfriend’s”.

“Boyfriend? What boyfriend?”

“Oh, yeah, she is dating Mike now”.

“Which one? _Fuckhands McMike_ or _Sugar Baby_ Mike?”

“Uhh… the second one…? I think”.

Sasha finishes rising her cup and leaves it in the drying rack, laughing softly.

Once she leaves, Melanie turns to looks at Jon, face serious.

“Just so you know, this was _my_ decision, Jon, the voting was mostly to know if you guys were backing me up or not, and, if it makes you feel better, Gerry voted _no_ , so you’re not the only one. C’mon, let’s go back to work”.

* * *

**[Georgie Baker has created the group chat “The Melanie King Report”]**

**[Georgie Barker has added Melanie King, Daisy Tonner and Gerry Delano]**

**Georgie (Admin):** The plan is in motion!

 **Gerry:** The plan to infiltrate ourselves into the institute? Lol, you forgot to add Jon and Basira.

 **Georgie (Admin):** You’re bringing a very valid topic and I love you! But no, actually I asked Mel to get us _information_.

 **Daisy:** Is this about the bloke Jon is totally _not_ pining for? Because if so, I can provide.

 **Gerry:** Oh, you girls mean that _Martin_ bloke? Also, Daisy, aren’t you supposed to be at work?

 **Daisy:** Is a slow day at the precinct.

 **Daisy:** Anyways

 **Daisy:** His name is Martin Lukas, around the same height as me, Caucasian, red hair and has freckles. Anything else?

 **Georgie (Admin):** Oh, freckles! Nice.

 **Gerry:** did you just fucking said Lukas

 **Daisy:** Lol, yeah.

 **Gerry:** are you shitting me? He is pining for a Lukas?

 **Melanie:** Lol, sorry, I was doing something, anyways, yeah, he is sweet, he made me tea!

 **Georgie (Admin):** What’s wrong with him being a Lukas?

 **Melanie:** It is good tea!

 **Gerry:** do you remember what we taught you about the entities and all that?

 **Georgie (Admin):** yeah

 **Gerry:** The Lukases are a very old family who serve the entity of the Lonely/Forsaken/The One Alone/whatever the fuck and their modus operandi is finding creepy singles to marry.

 **Melanie:** Sounds like a cult to me!

 **Melanie:** Martin seems really nice, though?

 **Gerry:** quick, someone do something! We’re going to lose her to the Lukases!

 **Gerry:** Melanie?? Are you there?

 **Melanie:** I laughed so hard I choked on my tea, fuck you, Gerry.

 **Melanie:** Anyways, he is gay.

 **Gerry:** …oh

 **Gerry:** I’m sorry.

 **Melanie:** lol, it’s fine.

 **Melanie:** do you guys want me to ask him if he is single? Just to see what Jon does.

 **Georgie (Admin):** Omg, Melanie King, don’t you dare!

 **Daisy:** Jon is dumb, but he isn’t stupid, he will know why you’re asking that.

 **Georgie (Admin):** Yeah, what Daisy said!

 **Melanie:** Whatever, have to keep working, see you all later!

* * *

Jon walks hurriedly through the hallway leading to the upper floor of the institute; Melanie has been in Elias’ office for around half an hour by now, god, what is he doing to her? A part of him reminds him that this was inevitable; that Elias was going to try and control her and the question should had been _when_ he was going to do this instead of _if_ he would. Melanie is proud of the Patron she serves; perhaps Elias could interpret that as a threat to whatever power he may still have.

Sometimes Jon wonders why he got off the hook so easily.

He has worked at the institute for years, but he has never had a problem with Elias. It had been a pleasant surprise to find that he is the only one who can lie to him without repercussions because, even with the power of the Beholding, Elias cannot see through his lies, even more surprising was that he accepted whatever utter tosh Jon told him about the Spider wanting to witness the happenings at the institute first-hand and sending him as her representative, that she has chosen because of his love for learning.

As Jon walks towards Elias’ office, he can feel the room getting colder as he walks through the empty hallway. He stops dead in his tracks when fog crawls at the edges of his vision. In a matter of moments, the whole hallway is filled to the brim with the thick white fog.

“I’ve heard spiders don’t do well in the cold” an unexpectedly friendly voice says from the fog. Jon turns to look at the source. “Hello, Jonathan, fancy seeing you again”.

“Again?” he can help but mutter, he has never seen this man before…, or has he?

The man is slightly taller than either Martin or Daisy, so he would tower over him if he wasn’t still a few meters away from him. He is blond with a big beard and his short hair is partially hidden by a captain’s hat. He is dressed in winter clothes, thick pants and a woollen jumper beneath a heavy looking navy blue bridge coat and, of course, he has a golden medallion hanging around his neck, not unlike the one Martin wears. He immediately knows who he is talking to, if the fog was not enough indication already.

“Is fine if you don’t remember” there’s a small spark of amusement in his otherwise lifeless steel grey eyes, like being forgotten by someone is something he finds funny, oh, well, _Dormivit oblivion erimus_ , he guesses, “the last time we crossed paths you were very young, but you know who I am, don’t you?”

Like Daisy loves to say, Jon is dumb, but he sure is not _stupid_.

“You’re Peter Lukas”, he nods. “I… I don’t really know much about you, only what I have heard from statements and from Martin” he seems pleased at this information, mostly at the mention of Martin.

“I see, oh, and please allow me to give you my condolences, I was not able to do so before. I’m sorry about your father”.

“Thank you”.

The fog around him recedes until the hallway is back to normal and, without a goodbye he is alone in the hallway again.

* * *

Jon finally finds Melanie in one of the services stairwells both of them no one uses. She is curled in a ball, crying, she looks…vulnerable, he has never seen her like that, so his first instinct is to panic, what has Elias done to her? Okay, first things first, he closes the door quietly behind him and announces himself.

“Melanie?”

She immediately leaps to her feet, hand going to her hip, where Jon knows she stores one of her many knives. He stands still, only holding his palms in front of him to show her it’s just him and she relaxes, before sitting, or rather, letting herself slide down the wall she is leaning on until she is on the floor. Jon approaches slowly until he is close enough to tower over her, he crouches down to be at the same height.

“Can I sit with you?”

“Knock yourself out” she shrugs and her voice sounds so hoarse, she clears her throat, “but stay quiet, I don’t want you to go all _I told you so_ on me, Sims”.

“Wasn’t planning on that, ah, thanks for letting me stay with you”.

“Hm. You got any cigarettes?”

“No, I left them on the archive, and as far as I know you don’t smoke”.

“Yeah, you’re right”.

They go back to the silence and, not knowing what else to do, he offers his hand. She takes it with a sigh. They don’t get along, not when Georgie is not in the room to mediate between them, it’s not that Jon doesn’t like Melanie, he does! She is very smart and can hold very interesting conversations due to her line of work. It’s just that, like Georgie likes to say, their personalities clash, and it’s hard for them to not end up in an argument (Jon has admit a little part of him enjoys his arguments with Melanie), but he will make sure that there won’t be any argument, not today.

“Thanks-, oh my god, _you’re freezing_!” she complains, before pulling on her sleeve to cover her hand before she takes his again. “Jeez, your sleeve is wet too”.

“May be because I just had a run in with Peter Lukas” he shrugs, “but, uh, don’t worry about that, okay? We will stay here until you feel like you can go down into the archives again”.

“Thank you” she says again and Jon is surprised when the words taste bitter to him. Usually, when Melanie ‘thanks’ him it tastes sweet because she is being sarcastic and has no problem telling him so, lie-detecting synaesthesia or not. She surprises him even further when she lays her head on his shoulder. “Ew, your clothes are damp, what did Peter Lukas do to you?” she says disgusted, but doesn’t lift her cheek from his shoulder regardless of how cold or wet he may be.

When they go back to the archive, they realise that Sasha’s office is empty and Tim is nowhere to be found. Martin, as usual, is in the breakroom, preparing the kettle. He asks no questions as Melanie takes a deep breath and sits back at her desk, but instead busies himself preparing three cups of tea as Jon talks to her.

She smiles when he hands her a cup, and takes a seat next to her.

“Do you need me to call Georgie? Or are you hungry? Should I call Daisy instead?” Jon asks.

Melanie frowns at the steaming cup on her hands, considering her options.

“I… I think you should call Daisy” Jon nods, before going into Sasha’s office.

“Would you like a hug?” he hears Martin offer when he is half the way there, he looks over his shoulder in time to see Melanie laughing.

Then she bites her lip, eyes brimming with tears again upon hearing the sweet offer. She _fucking_ hates pity, but in Martin’s eyes she finds none if that, only pure and genuine concern, so she nods.

“I-…I would like that”.

Jon closes the door to the office behind him to give them some privacy and takes out his mobile phone, leaning against Sasha’s desk as it rings.

Avatars are not that different to humans in some aspects, they can get physically and emotionally drained too. Melanie should be fine after some sleep, and some… food. Problem is human food won’t do. He bites his lip, Daisy won’t be pleased with this, if anything she will be even more eager to kill Elias now that he has hurt Melanie the same way he has hurt her.

“ _Hello, Detective Tonner speaking_ ”.

“Hello, Daisy, it’s me, Jon” he starts, “I know you said not to call you at the precinct if it’s not an emergency, but I think you should come talk to Melanie, something happened and I believe she would need to go… _have a snack_ , I know you two weren’t supposed to do that until next week, but it’s urgent, I have some files with targets for the both of you if you feel like feeding too”.

“ _I will be there in fifteen minutes, don’t leave her alone_ ”.

She hangs up without a goodbye, but that’s Daisy for you. He sighs as he goes back to the main office.

“Jon!” Melanie says, and she seems in a slightly better mood. “I was just telling Martin about you _run in_ with Peter Lukas!” he groans as Martin curiously looks at him.

Melanie is going to be fine.

* * *

Maybe this was a bad idea, Martin thinks as he waits for the lift to reach the floor he is supposed to get down in. He is at Georgie’s apartment complex, or he hopes so, if he didn’t get the address wrong. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, there’s no way Jonathan Sims, known perfectionist, would give him the wrong address. This is ridiculous, he tells himself as he exits the lift.

He knocks on the wooden door with Georgie’s flat number on it.

The woman who answers is shorter than him, but surely taller than Jon; she has puffy brown curls and a welcoming smile.

“Georgie?” he asks.

“You must be Martin” it’s not a question and Martin is a bit confused but she surely must not get strangers drop by her flat very often. She steps aside to let him in. “I have heard a lot about you, come in!”

He takes off his canvas shoes and leaves them by the huge pile of shoes ranging from dress shoes to high heels to combat boots, and he is lead to a comfortable-looking living room with a big L-shaped couch. He recognizes Melanie, Detective Tonner and Detective Hussain, who insist on him calling them by their names, sitting on it, while Jon smiles at him from the floor, where he is sitting cross-legged with a fluffy white-greyish cat on his lap. There seems to be someone smoking in the balcony with their back facing them.

He takes a seat next to Jon in the floor, asking if he can pet the cat and without hesitation Jon takes him by the wrist and sinks his hand into the soft fur. The Admiral, whom Martin has only seen pictures of before, purrs under the attention.

“I think he likes you” Jon declares. “Isn’t he lovely?”

That’s when the person that was in the balcony comes in. They are wearing black from head to toe, and despite the cold, they’re only wearing a mesh shirt under their thick leather jacket, but they don’t seem to feel cold. Their hair is dyed black, but the original colour shows a bit in the roots. They smile and sit at the other side of Jon, then they offer a leather gloved hand to Martin.

“Hello, Gerry Delano, avatar of The Desolation. They/them pronouns please”.

“Martin Lukas” he accepts the hand, so, so warm even through the leather. “Uh, He/Him for me”, Gerry nods.

“Well, now that we finished with the introductions, I believe Daisy has something to show us” Georgie declares, “could you send it onto my laptop?”

“Done” the blond woman says as she places the laptop on the coffee table so everyone can see. She is smiling smugly, and with a quick look around, Martin realizes that Gerry is frowning.

“This is going to be great” Jon tells him, smiling as well; he can’t help but smile back.

Daisy presses play and the footage starts.

_The camera, probably a phone, moves to show Jon and Gerry, sitting in the very same living room they’re occupying right now, but in the video, he can see the daylight pouring through the balcony window, The Admiral is sleeping over the coffee table while getting belly rubs from Jon. They seem to be arguing, or at least Gerry is arguing._

_“JURGEN LEITNER?” the Gerry on the video screams. “Stupid idiot motherfucking Jürgen Leitner goddamn fool book collecting dust eating rat old bastard shithead idiot avatar of the WHORE” they say, without stopping for a breath._

_“Gerry…” Jon tries to calm him down, but his friend continues._

_“Biggest clown in the circus laughed out of town cowboy motherfucking Jürgen Leitner…”_

_“Gerry…” Jon tries again._

_“Stop pining me when I talk about Jürgen Leitner! I hate him so much, why does he have so many fucked up books? Why did he decide to fuck around and find out? Just set them loose! Is he dead? Is he a bastard? Man has such a visceral effect on me, not even in the room; never seen this man’s face and I know he has the world’s shittiest beard, get away from me”._

_“Gerry, this is important, I have news about Leitner”._

_“…he collects books but I am mad because I am angy! He better have some fucked up backstory to explain this, if he is just some rich shithead who is a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version I will go_ ham _”._

_“Gerry!” Daisy calls, seemingly behind the camera, “why are you talking about Jürgen Leitner?”_

_“The conversation is not even about him!” they complain. “Jon vaguely mentioned something, maybe his library, and I lost it. Where the fuck is Jürgen Leitner?” they demand to Jon, turning to look at him, who is still giving belly rubs to The Admiral. “If he is still alive, I’m going to so deeply wish he wasn’t crusty old man”._

_“Actually…” Jon tries once again._

_“I hope there’s a date given for when Jürgen died or will die, so I can make it a reminder on my phone, everyday once a year I will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man that had so many fucked up if true books…”_

_“Well, now you can, he is dead!” Daisy exclaims cheerfully, making Gerry turn to look at her with a tick in their right eye._

_“He is… dead? What the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK”._

Then the video ends, and everyone is laughing, even Gerry.

“Ah” they say with a smile on their face once they recover. “I hate that old bastard so fucking much”.

Sometime later, Jon and Martin are standing in the balcony, Georgie, Melanie and Daisy are out, doing an impromptu errand to get some more alcohol and also some food while they’re at it, Basira and Gerry are still in the living room, the first scrolling through her phone, probably with the digital copy of a book, he guesses, and the latter is busy petting The Admiral.

“It’s weird, you know?” Martin comments out of the blue as Jon takes another drag from his cigarette, cocking an eyebrow as he does so. “To see you without a sweater vest, I mean” he answers teasingly, half smiling, half serious, but the dark-skinned man can’t help it, he starts to laugh along.

It’s true, though, Jon usually prefers office-appropriate clothes when he is at the institute (he has a reputation to maintain), but since he had discovered the punk subculture back in university, he could never fully let the leather jackets and the ripped jeans go. Right now, he is wearing both of those things and a well-worn black and white _The Clash_ t-shirt, which Martin noticed right away (Jon had secretly hoped that he would), however he wasn’t expecting Martin to unzip his baby blue hoodie to reveal an equally worn t-shirt with the _Never Mind the Bollocks: here’s the Sex Pistols_ album cover, the traitor.

“Wait until you see me in a spiked choker”.

“You wear those?!”

“I haven’t in a long time, but I could make an exception”.

“I… I would like that, Jon” Martin says, hoping that he doesn’t notices how much his cheeks are heating up and certainly not thinking about how much into punk blokes he was as a teenager. “I would like that a lot”.

* * *

**[Puppeteer has added S. James, T. Stoker and M. Blackwood Lukas to the “Avatars of London” group chat, Saturday, 10:21 pm]**

**S. James:** Hello?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Hello, Sasha. Apologies for the hour, it seems I had forgotten to add the three of you to this group chat.

 **S. James:** Jon?

 **Slaughterer:** Who else do you know that will talk like that through text, Sasha?

 **S. James:** Melanie?

 **T. Stoker:** Hi. What’s up with all the weird nicknames?

 **M. Blackwood:** Hi, everyone! _@T. Stoker_ I actually know that one! In our world, people get “nicknames” according to the entity they represent or something that references them in particular. It’s like a formal title that other avatars can use to refer to you.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** That is correct, yes.

 **T. Stoker:** Oh, new lore unlocked. Cool.

 **Boneturner:** Hello, new members, I’m Jared Hopworth, avatar of the flesh.

 **Detective:** Hey, guys. It’s Basira.

 **Huntress:** Long time no see, Daisy here.

 **Distortion:** H3ll0 Fr13nds!!1!! 1’m M1cha3l!

 **Lightning Bolt:** Welcome, name’s Mike Crew, I’m with the Fairchilds.

 **Living Fire:** Hey, I’m Gerry Delano, avatar of The Desolation, they/them pronouns.

 **Death touch:** Hello! I’m Georgie, my nickname is not official or anything because I’m not an avatar, but I hang out here a lot because of Jon and Melanie!

 **Coroner:** Good evening, I’m Oliver Banks, avatar of The End.

 **Weaver (Admin):** Hello, you three! Hope you have fun here! Jon, would you like to do the honours?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot.

**Puppeteer has changed S. James’s nickname to _Archivist_**

**Puppeteer has changed M. Blackwood Lukas’s nickname to _Forsaken Prince_**

**Archivist:** Seriously? That’s my title?

 **Forsaken Prince:** Oh, my gosh, how did you know mine?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I’m a Spider, I know things.

 **T. Stoker:** What about me?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Hold on

**Puppeteer has changed T. Stoker’s nickname to _F*ck the Circus_**

**F*ck the Circus:** hell yeah, I love it! Can I get the uncensored version, please?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I’m afraid that’s not possible.

 **F*ck the Circus:** Ah, worth a shot.

**Weaver has changed T. Stoker’s nickname to _Fuck the Circus_**

**Weaver (Admin):** Tim can have some swearing, as a treat :)

 **Fuck the Circus:** Hell yeah, thanks, Annabelle :D

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Fine, I see how it is. Would you be so kind in telling them the rules, dear sister?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, okay I have to admit that the balcony scene was inspired by this post on tumblr:  
> "@rollmarishative: okay i see your 'jon was alt in uni' and i raise you: jon is STILL alt, he just wears different stuff to conform more to typical academia, but one time martin bumps into him in a tescos at the weekend and nearly goes into cardiac arrest."  
> As a person who is both alt and works in academia, that post is very relatable, also, you know what? OP is right and they should say it.


	8. Connecting the dots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every world has it's own rules, so Jon has to make sure his friends know the ones they are now playing with. Martin reveals a secret to his Nana and gets an unexpected response. Melanie thinks the institute may not be that bad, after all while Tim is trying to come to terms with where he stands in the group with the recent developments. Sasha muses on what could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings in the end notes!
> 
>  **Soundtrack:** Ever fallen in love? (The Buzzcocks), River (Eminem ft. Ed Sheeran)

Tim has always feel proud of his apparent ability to make others feel welcomed and at ease around him, so when he saw Melanie again after the ex-you tuber took a few days off after her encounter with Elias, he just knew something had to be done about that sad expression on her face.

That’s why he is now on his house, talking with Melanie as they wait for the rest of the archive gang, as he likes to call it, to arrive. She is sitting in his couch as he places more and more bottles on his coffee table, along with some wine glasses, because, contrary to popular belief, you can get wasted and still look refined; he told her, making her laugh.

“So, do you guys have these reunions often?” she asks.

”Not really” shrugging as he moves the glasses a little, “we usually go for drinks after work, like we did the week you joined the archive, but Martin, Sasha and I agreed we want to get to know you better!” here he smiles. “plus, we’re going to try and see if we can get Jon drunk”.

“With those things? Good luck, Stoker.”

“What’s wrong with these? It’s a healthy selection to choose from! If you’re in for something more sophisticated, I happen to make amazing daiquiris!” Melanie laughs again.

“I’ve seen Jon down half a bottle of Jack Daniels in less than forty minutes and still being able to walk in a straight line”.

“Are we talking about the same man?”

“I’m afraid we’re”.

Jon arrives next, and Sasha and Martin arrive together shortly after. They all sit around the coffee table to have some snacks; it’s bad to drink on an empty stomach after all, as Tim starts to fill the glasses with red wine, except for one, which he fills with white wine instead, since he knows is the one Sasha prefers.

“So, Melanie” the archivist starts, “how are you liking the archives?”

“I mean, aside from the prick of a boss that we have is actually not that bad?”

“Try having him as a member of your family by marriage”, Martin playfully scoffs, taking a tiny sip of his wine glass. He didn’t really wanted to drink, but he also didn’t want to be the only one _not_ drinking, if that makes sense.

“Oh, yeah, he is married to you uncle, right?” Melanie seems to recall, he nods. “One hell of a convenience marriage if you ask me, you know, I always wondered, Elias gets protection and funding for the institute out of it, but what does your uncle get out of it?”

“I don’t know”, he shrugs, “never understood what he sees in Elias. How can you love someone, like that?”

“Wait, wait, wait, stop right there!” the goth woman orders, “did you just fucking said _love_?! You mean to tell me is not a convenience agreement? Your uncle is really in love with that monster?”

“On that note, we did joke that Peter Lukas was Elias’ Sugar Daddy, so probably those visits to the institute are not business meetings”.

“Timothy Stoker Junior, you put that sentence back on your mouth!” Sasha chides, scandalized.

Martin winces, hating every single word that has come out of his friend’s mouth and the implication that his uncle and Elias… ugh, disgusting, they’re married, yeah, but still. He looks at Jon, who hasn’t said anything about this and sees him downing the rest of his glass in one gulp with a disgusted expression before reaching for the bottle to pour some more on his glass.

Tonight he is wearing a dressy black shirt and matching slacks, the redhead is almost disappointed, he was hoping to see one of his non-conventional outfits, maybe even see that spiked choker he mentioned last time?

Martin notices his glass is also empty, and instead of reaching for a coke, he places his glass next to Jon’s, silently asking for a refill, the man nods and complies.

“Thanks” he murmurs as the girls keep chiding Tim for conjuring such a cursed sentence.

“Maybe it’s the wine speaking, but what if we get you another uncle in law, Martin?”

“I actually like that idea, Melanie, I’m open for suggestions!”

“We could make him a Grindr account”.

“Sasha, no!”

“Sasha, _yes_!”

“Hush, no, Tim, don’t encourage her!” Martin complains. “I used to have Grindr and all it did was give one of my ex-boyfriends a place to harass me.”

“Are you saying that if we get your uncle another boyfriend Elias will harass him on Grindr?”

“Does Elias even know how to use a smartphone to being with?” Jon intervenes.

The night keeps going in between drinks and jokes and laughs, Melanie feels at ease, and while it’s not an expected feeling, it’s a very welcomed one.

* * *

That Monday during lunch, the archives team is, unusually for them, taking their lunch in the institute’s cafeteria. It’s a bit late to have lunch, so the cafeteria is mostly empty, except for them and the kitchen staff.

“So…” Jon starts, making the rest look at him. “Melanie has drawn my attention into a certain issue that we must discuss”.

“Is this a _life-or-death_ kind of issue or is this _I-need-to-rant-about-Elias-Bitchard_ kind of issue?” Tim asks, frowning a bit as he takes another bite from his sandwich.

 **“** I believe is something in between, but don’t worry nothing too serious. I’m afraid I may have neglected to tell you certain… _rules_ that our world has, and while not too important, they may come in handy to know”.

 **“** Oh! Yeah, I forgot about those too!” Martin pipes in.

 **“** Rules? Ugh, I don’t like the sound of that”. Melanie laughs at that.

“I said exactly the same thing when I found out!”

 **“** What kind of rules?” Sasha is the one who asks.

 **“** I’m afraid politics are not something that we can escape from, even in our world, so these rules had been set in place a very long time ago. Rule number one: Nobody crosses the Fairchilds or the Lukas family” everyone turns to look at Martin who blushes, “they are both ancient families who everyone knows not to mess with, like I told you, they’re like the royalty of our world. Rule number two: Attacking a place claimed by another entity is considered a declaration of war, and those who dare should attain themselves to whatever consequences they may face. Of course, there’s no supernatural police or government, so everybody is left to their own devices, meaning that if you let’s say, attacked Moorland Manor, nobody will help you when the Lukases go after you, then again, that also goes against rule one, so if you are dumb enough to break two of the very few rules we have, then you have to face the consequences of your actions and deserve to die for your foolishness”, Melanie and Tim burst into laughter as Martin lets out an affronted _JON!_ “Anyways, rule number three: is all-goes when it’s about vengeance, so everyone minds their own business to be on the safe side, and rule number four: is impolite to mess with another’s meal”.

“What, so no _do not divulge the existence of the supernatural to normal people_ rule or…?” Sasha leaves the question hanging in the air, Jon just shrugs.

“Nobody has seen fit to put such a rule in place; I could literally go down to Research and play them my statement without any consequences, but then again, who would believe me? You two barely did when I tried to explain Smirke’s fourteen to you”

“Oh, it was more like denial” Tim admits.

“Wait” Sasha says, “what about Jane Prentiss?”

“I believe she was a young avatar and, such is the case with her kind, which we call _Flesh Hives_ , she may not have had someone to teach her the rules, because she broke both number one and number two, attacked the institute, claimed by the Beholding, and attacked a member of the Lukas family”, here he looks at Martin, who winces. “Let’s also not mention that due to Elias’ marriage to Peter Lukas, the Institute is under his family’s protection”.

A comfortable silence falls on the table, as the team keeps eating.

“Wait, hold on”, Tim says, “when Prentiss trapped Martin, how come you didn’t notice that him having a stomach bug was a lie?” there’s no accusation behind his words, only curiosity. “Shouldn’t your lie-detector have picked it up?”

“It’s not so easy, Tim” Jon admits. “I have the _sound-gustatory_ variety of synaesthesia, which means I interpret spoken words as certain flavours, but you and Sasha were the ones who told me, and you both believed it to be true, so when you guys repeated it, it tasted bitter to me. There’s also the fact that he supposedly mentioned _a stomach bug_ and it made me think he was…” Jon weighs his words, considering them, “…having a meal”.

“Let me translate” Melanie says, when the other three look at Jon with confusion written all over their faces. “When you become an avatar, you _feed_ your god, as an inside joke we use synonyms to _lunch, dinner, breakfast, snack, meal_ and the like” she allows the words to sink in and Sasha nods, finally understanding. “That’s what he mean with the whole _do not mess with another person’s meal_ thing.”

“Yeah, I know about that, I figured I may have to give something to the Beholding when Elias was so insistent in me reading statements after I found out about entities. I somehow managed to make him believe Leitner is the one who gave me the information”, she turns to Jon, who nods.

“Thank you” he turns to Tim. “So, as you can guess, feeding is sometimes a very personal thing, I didn’t know Martin very well back then and it felt impolite to question him about his eating habits, I didn’t even knew what entity he served until after the attack”, he turns to the redhead, “I just knew you were like me, that’s all”.

* * *

Sasha grunts as she practically yanks the comb Annabelle lent her through her hair. They’re at Jon’s apartment, bent over maps and blueprints on the coffee table. They had decided to explore the tunnels underneath the institute now that they know Leitner is not down there to change them anymore, of course almost the whole team went down. Sasha would have preferred if at least more than one of them stayed in the archives, but Jon’s logic was that they would need Tim because part of the Magnus Institute was designed by Robert Smirke, they would need Melanie in case they encountered something and, while Jon expressed concern of Martin being left alone in the archives, the redhead insisted he would be fine.

This first exploration had been fine; she just needed to remember to grab a hair tie next time before venturing down. They hadn’t find Leitner’s hideout yet, but they were hopeful that next time they will. Meanwhile, she and Melanie managed to locate Gertrude’s old laptop from under the floorboards in her office.

“I’m telling you, the tunnels had to lead to the remnants of Millbank Prison” Tim declares, proud at his deduction, as he points at an old blueprint of Westminster, “here, see? The building was torn down and then turned into several smaller buildings, including one that houses the new location of the Magnus Institute, god, if we’re lucky we may even find the Panopticon!” he says excited.

“The Panopticon, you say? What is that?” Martin asks.

So Tim smirks, happy to share his knowledge, as he pulls some loose papers and folders from within his backpack and starts to explain. He tells the group about the prison’s history starting all the way back in 1799 when the site was bought, continuing with the plans for the Panopticon that were supposedly dropped in 1812.

“It is rumoured in the London architectural community that the Panopticon did at some point exist, but it’s remains were never found, not even when the demolition of the prison started in 1892. I also investigated and it turns out the prison itself enforced a strict policy where prisoners were to remain in silent solitary confinement for the first part of their sentences, so when you taught us about the entities, I tried to find if any money for such an institution came from the Lukas family, since that sounds more up _their_ alley, but I couldn’t find anything, then again, it was not a very good layout so, the guards would get lost in the corridors and the ventilation system allowed sound to travel meaning the prisoners still found ways to interact with each other”.

“Knowing my family, they wouldn’t have paid a single cent for something that wasn’t exactly catered to their demands” Martin reasons out loud, elbow over the small table as his cheek rests in his hand.

“Not to be a killjoy, but what good would finding the Panopticon do?” Melanie, who had been silent until now, asks, “I mean, aside from earning the respect of the architecture nerds”, they laugh at that.

“There are twelve rituals for the fears” Jon explains once the laughter subsides. “Like I told you, we managed to either find proof of the failed rituals, or we could estimate when and where did they happen, like with The Buried’s ritual _The Sunken Sky_ , which Gerry and I believe happened here in England during the London Blitz”, he turns to Melanie, “there’s also the, uh, _discourse_ regarding your ritual”.

“What? No way, let me in on the supernatural discourse, Jon!” Tim demands, making Jon sigh with tiredness and annoyance, but to his friends it just looks like a dramatic sigh.

“We believe the Slaughter’s ritual known as _The Risen War_ could have been attempted during the Second World War, Gerry and I have some differences as to _where_ it was attempted, Gerry’s bet is on Nazi Germany on the Soviet front, mine is the war in the Pacific Ocean theatre, probably during the Hiroshima or Nagasaki bombings”, is all the answer he gives before moving forward without leaving place for a discussion. “There’s one we couldn’t find any evidence yet, it’s called The Watcher’s Crown, which is the ritual for the Eye, your ritual, Sasha. I think it will be worth looking into this Panopticon thing, I don’t think is a coincidence that Jonah Magnus moved his institute and rebuilt it right on top of where the Panopticon would have been. Have you find anything helpful in the laptop yet, Sasha?” he asks, and she shakes her head.

“Not yet, but I will”.

* * *

“…and he is _so_ smart, and he says _so_ many smart things, and I’m not dumb!” Martin rants as he walks, arm in arm with Odeta down the private beach of the Lukas Estate, the sun is shining brightly and the woman had suggested a walk, she is smiling softly as her grandson talks. He looks at her and blushes slightly. “Oh, sorry, am I boring you, Nana?”

“Of course you’re not, don’t be silly”.

“I know I… uh, talk _a lot_ about him” he laments, feeling his cheeks heat up even more as they stop walking, he looks away from her, and faces the breeze from the seashore that feels actually quite nice against his heated up skin.

“You do mention that young man a lot” she admits, placing herself in Martin’s direct line of view, she may have grown accustomed to Peter looking anywhere but her face whenever they happen to be in the same room, but she won’t tolerate it from her grandson. “Why do you think that is?” he blushes further and she places a hand on his cheek so he doesn’t turn away again, even if he avoids her gaze. “It’s okay, _dragul meu_ ; you can tell Nana what’s going on”.

“I… I used to have a crush on him when we started working together” Martin admits, looking at her like he is still a child and she just caught him with his hand in the metaphorically forbidden cookie jar. He can proudly say that he and his grandmother are very close despite only meeting once a week, but it’s still hard to tell her about this.

“And how are things now?”

“I’m… I’m in love, Nana, I think I’ve been for in love for a long time”, he groans as he covers his face, “this is _so_ embarrassing”.

“Martin, look at me” she orders, he takes a few seconds but finally complies. “Love is a beautiful thing, never feel embarrassment over admitting you love someone, okay? Let’s go back, you didn’t bring a hat and I don’t want you to get sunburnt”.

Odeta just knows that this young man, _Jonathan_ , she recalls is his name, must be very especial for her grandson, otherwise the poor thing wouldn’t have so much trouble expressing how he feels about him. _I love you_ is a combination of words that wasn’t heard often in the manor, not until Martin came in, he has no problem telling them that he loves them, he excuses it by saying that they’re family and how can you not love family?

Her grandson is the sweetest lad she has ever met and the more she recalls that little fact, the more her blood boils when she remembers Mauve Blackwood.

When they get back to the Manor, she asks Darla, who Martin seems surprised to still see around, for some tea and sandwiches as usual, and then she takes Martin to her study, her long cream-colored skirt trailing slightly behind her as she does so, to show him some old family paintings she and Nathaniel recently got restored, they date from the regency era and most are portraits of Mordechai Lukas, they were in a good state to being with but a little maintenance wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Darla brings what she asked for and leaves it in a corner table, before leaving.

“I don’t think Grandpa Mordechai would appreciate how many portraits we keep of him” Martin comments, making her laugh, she doesn’t correct him, he isn’t wrong and she herself has forgotten how many _greats_ go in front of Mordechai’s name to get to their days, so _Grandpa_ will have to do. “Nana, and who is this?” she turns to look at the picture he is pointing. A man with brown short curls, brown eyes so light they look almost yellow and a solemn expression.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know who he is” she teases, but Martin just shrugs, “That’s Jonah Magnus, funder of the Magnus Institute, I never understood why Mordechai would keep portraits of him, but I do believe I have been told that they were quite close” she smiles at Martin’s curious stare, “so, I take Elias didn’t put those portraits on display?”

“What portraits?”

“Oh, when he married Peter the first time around he asked if he could get some of the few portraits Mordechai kept of Jonah to hang them around the institute, did he not do that?”

“Actually, Elias is the one who told me there weren’t any surviving images of Jonah Magnus…” Martin muses.

“What-?”

A knock on the door, when Odeta opens is Yvette, the housekeeper, who smiles at Martin, before informing her boss that one of her granddaughters, one of Martin’s cousins, has sent her a letter. Martin guesses it’s from Natalia, since her sister Michaela does prefer to call Odeta on the phone instead. The old woman thanks Yvette and opens the letter with a letter opener in the form of a dagger that was on her desk.

Martin’s father, Aaron, had a twin sister named Judith, who was also sent to live with distant relatives and then went to Italy on her own when she came of age. Strangely enough, despite being in a way _banished_ , she kept in touch with sporadic letters, meaning that when Judith died in a car accident a few years ago, her own twin daughters, who are a couple years younger than Martin, were able to let them know about her passing. Odeta welcomed the girls into the family with open arms the same way she had Martin, which isn’t strange, considering that he knows he has as last four other cousins he hasn’t ever met, meaning Odeta has other four grandchildren whose mothers (Martin’s aunts) had forbidden her from having any kind of contact with.

Martin is as close as he can be to Natalia and Michaela given that they live outside the United Kingdom, which means he is more than happy to hear from them every once in a while.

“Natty and Micah will be coming home soon” she excitedly tells him as they sit to have tea, “they want to be here for Peter’s wedding, isn’t that wonderful?”

“Delightful” he agrees, a wide smile in his face. “I can’t wait to see them!”

“Me neither”, she smiles as well, “oh, and Martin? I would really like for you to introduce me to that young man you keep mentioning, perhaps invite him here to the manor for some tea?” she can’t help the chuckle that escapes her lips when her grandson goes bright red up to the tips of his ears, almost upsetting his cup with the sudden force he uses as he places it back on it’s little saucer.

“Nana!” he complains.

* * *

“No, Tim”.

“Ah, come on, man!”

This little exchange is the first thing Sasha hears as she opens her office door after recording a couple of statements. Melanie looks from her desk, combat boots propped up in the wooden surface as she eats from a bag of crisps, amusement in her eyes. Martin is biting back a smile as he pins a couple of pictures into the corkboard.

“Now what are you two arguing about?”

“I was just telling Jon how lovely it would be of him to give me spider-man powers” Tim explains, in a matter-of-factly tone that has Sasha laughing within seconds.

“And **I** was just telling him how that’s not possible” Jon retorts, crossing his arms at the man.

“Why not?” Melanie replies, “Seduction is a form of deceit, isn’t it? I would say our man Tim is quite skilled in that area”.

“Thank you, Melanie” he smiles at her, who answers with finger guns.

“Well, she is not wrong” Jon admits, ignoring when the goth woman fist bumps the air in triumph, “seduction is indeed a form of manipulation, not one I particularly use, I prefer blackmail, but even if he was willing to serve the mother, I don’t know how to turn someone else for them to become like me”.

“Well, that rules out The Web” Tim says with a wince as he crosses of something on a small list he has on his desk. “Melanie already said I don’t have enough rage for The Slaughter and I’m not about to ask Daisy about The Hunt” he says, tapping the end of his pencil against his chin.

“Tim, excuse me?” Sasha says.

“No, I don’t excuse you” he answers, giving her his best smile, she frowns. “Aw, come on, Sash, I want in on the avatar fun!”

“You’re not the only non-avatar, Tim” Martin reminds him, “I’m not fully an avatar either and I don’t even know if I can use any of the powers of the Lonely…”

“Explain the tunnels” Jon says calmly, interrupting Martin, who stares at him as if he just talked to him in a whole different language the redhead has never heard before.

“Ah-, I’m sorry, explain the _what,_ now?”

“In the tunnels, Martin, when we were running away from the not-them, when you left on your own and I followed you” Martin blinks at him, before shrugging as if to say _I don’t know I just work here_ , Jon sighs one of those tired sighs of his. “Do you know how I found you?” the redhead shakes his head no. “I followed the fog, Martin”.

“Wha-?” he wants to deny it, to tell Jon he is wrong, but he still remembers the sensation he felt in that moment so clearly… the cold, the smell of salt, the sound of waves crashing into the shore…

“Besides” Tim interrupts, shaking him out of his thoughts “you basically have blue blood, Marto”.

“I mean, it… depends on who you ask? If you ask Uncle Peter he would say the Lukas men have seawater running through their veins-”

“Have you ever been on a boat?” Melanie mockingly asks.

“I would let you know, Miss King, that I did work a fortnight with Uncle Peter and his crew on the Tundra, it was fun, I learned to make knots and navigate by starlight, it’s not so hard. Anyways, the only man in the family who thinks we have blue blood is Uncle Nathaniel, but other than that” he shrugs. “Point is you don’t have to feel like you need to become an avatar, Tim”.

“Yes!” Melanie agrees, “this lifestyle is not for anybody, Stoker. Oh, don’t look at me like that, you big baby” she complains when the man frowns, “the reason I’m Slaughter is because my patron enables my anger in a way that feels… _right_ , like this is how it should be” she turns to look at the freckled man still standing next to the corkboard near her desk. “What about you, Lukas? Because, yeah, you are not an avatar but I’m more than sure that you could be one if you wanted to”.

“I… uh…” his cheeks colour a soft pink that even Jon finds endearing (even if he would never share that thought aloud). “I feel like I… _belong_ with them, with the Lukas family, I mean, You all know that I’m not really that close with my mum, she’s too strong-willed and I know can be a little overwhelming when I’m worried, I guess!” he chuckles, but there’s no real humour behind it and Tim, who knows (or rather suspects) the situation with Mrs. Blackwood, frowns “I don’t have a dad either, but Nana and Uncle Peter had been there for me when I needed them the most, they make me feel like, well, like it doesn’t matter if they raised me or not, I am still one of them. Our patron is a very demanding one to serve; Uncle Peter spends months isolated at sea and Nana lives on her own on a manor with a little over a hundred rooms and I’m aware of that, I could probably serve with the same devotion, I have learnt to find comfort in the fog, after all”.

“Martin does bring an interesting point” Jon concedes. “The sense of belonging, of being a part of something, that has to be the only good way to become an avatar, I mean, that’s exactly how I joined too”.

“Are there _bad_ ways to become an avatar then?” Sasha, who has leaned against Tim’s desk, asks.

“Well, the worst way possible, at least in my opinion, would have been to do it to sate a hunger for power like _you know who_ because who knows how far will you be willing to go with that kind of motivation” here looks at the ceiling, cocking an eyebrow. “But you could also have done it out of desperation or survival instincts, which is what I was concerned about Elias doing to you, Sasha. It’s a very intricate manipulation plan, thrust someone ignorant and willing into a position of power without telling them anything, leaving them helpless and at your mercy to do what you please with them…, I have to admit I’m quite impressed, you have to be an special kind of cruel to pull that one off, bringing someone into our world like that is like throwing someone off a plane without a parachute” this leaves everyone in silence.

“What I am hearing is _find which what fear do you vibe,_ team” Tim says, smiling one of those smiles of his, that has everyone groaning in annoyance, even if Sasha in particular does find it that smile quite endearing.

“Well, there’s always the option of giving yourself onto the fear that marked you, and since you’re marked by The Stranger, I don’t see that ending prettily for you” Tim frowns and Jon hopes that he hasn’t gone too far, that happens a lot to him, he usually doesn’t mean for his jokes to sound so heartless but they somehow come out that way. “Anyways, now that we’re talking about The Stranger, we should focus on their ritual” he points at the corkboard. “So… the main avatar for the Stranger is Nikola Orsinov, also known as The Ringmaster…”

And he tells them _everything_ , how he met Nikola when she became friends with his beloved sister, how Nikola betrayed Annabelle’s trust and, as the good older brother he prides himself in being, he just had to do something about that, (Tim finds himself nodding along at this part), how he performed a ritual (yes, Sasha, a ritual, but it’s not like your Watcher’s Crown, shh, no trust me, it’s different) to trap one of Nikola allies, commonly known as the _Not-Them_ to delay the Unknowing until _the team_ (yes, Melanie, including you, I’m talking about Gerry and the girls and, sadly, that includes you) found a way to stop it. The Web table got lost in the following confrontation, somehow ending up at the institute, he doesn’t go into detail about it, but assures them that, whatever he did, weakened Nikola enough to delay her ritual several years.

When Jon talks about what the Not-Them can do, Sasha feels her skin crawl, and, unable to help her curiosity, her mind conjures a series of images and what ifs, she imagines a complete stranger coming down the stairs to the archive and greeting _her_ friends, she imagines them greeting the creature back without realizing it’s not actually Sasha, she imagines the thing having brunch with his father and Stella, with them laughing along like there’s nothing wrong, she imagines Tim smiling and kissing that monster the way he had once kissed _her_ and she feels sick.

A shiver goes down her spine at those thoughts and she hopes no one notices, she looks around the room to make sure, Melanie is doodling on her notebook (if she is paying attention or not, Sasha doesn’t know), Martin is, of course, looking at Jon and listening to every word that comes out of his mouth as if he were the only thing that matters in the room (really, how can Jon be so blind?), then her eyes land on Tim, whose eyes are on Jon the whole time as he speaks, they don’t bear the lovesick adoration that Martin’s have, but rather a very cold determination.

Those are not Tim’s eyes.

She has always loved his eyes, a lovely shade of grey that she mistook for a very light blue when they met; they had a spark of mischief that matched his perfect smile. She knows how those eyes shine when he laughs or just has a joke to tell, she knows how they cloud when he is sad or upset… seeing those dull eyes that look nothing like his but yet _are_ his makes her heart ache.

She knows exactly how warm they can be when he says _I love you_ too.

After that last thought, she quickly tries to place her attention back on Jon, who is still explaining them about The Circus and how the ritual needs to be performed in a place where avatars can feel close to their patron. That’s in the past, she already had that chance, but she lost it, she needs to focus on what matters now: destroying the circus with the hope that it doesn’t destroys Tim as well.

* * *

Jon takes another sip from his mug as he goes over a statement, but realizes halfway through the sip that the mug is actually empty. He is still at the archives, which are strangely empty as well; Melanie is not here, it has been some days after her little _disagreement_ with Elias, is a miracle they were able to _talk_ Daisy down from murdering him right then and there, to be honest, however Melanie has decided to get back at him in all the little ways she can find, so she and Sasha are having an extended lunch break, a very extended lunch break, given that is almost time to go home. Tim is off yet _again_ with his research, is fine that they can’t be fired and all, but Tim is going to get sick if he spends anymore time outside this damned place and Sasha did shot a glance at his empty desk, only to frown when she didn’t see him there.

Dammit, he still needs to talk with Tim about certain… issue.

He is, however, not alone.

Martin is in the archives too, he is organizing his desk, cleaning up a bit. He is humming a song as he does so; Jon can’t help but watch him for a bit. The redhead has finished wiping the wooden surface with a wet cloth and is in the process of rearranging a bit of his stationery. He pursues his lips in concentration and the other can help but think he looks rather adorable doing that, then he decides his brain must be very tired to be thinking such thoughts and it’s time to stop, so he stares at the statement on his own desk instead, but he can’t quite concentrate in the words anymore.

“What are you singing?” he asks instead. “Sounds familiar…”

“Ah? Oh! It’s- It’s a song by the Buzzcocks, it’s, ah, called-…” but Jon is already pulling out his phone, “Jon?”

The answer comes in the form of music from Jon’s phone.

_You spurn my natural emotions, you make me feel I’m dirt and I’m hurt, and If I start a commotion, I run the risk of losing you and that’s worse. Ever fallen in love with someone, ever fallen in love, in love with someone? Ever fallen in love, in love with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with?_

“ _Ever fallen in love_ , yes, I know it, great song” he smiles at Martin as he says it, tapping the pause button and leaving his phone in the desk.

“You know, the Pistols were their main source of inspiration. So, are you finally accepting I was right about them being the best English punk band?”

“One day, Martin K. Blackwood Lukas, you will see the light and you will realise The Clash was, and always will be, the superior English punk band”.

“Can we at least agree that The Ramones are the superior _American_ punk band?”

“Yes” Jon agrees, finding that he is still smiling, “I always had a soft spot for _I wanna be sedated_ and the whole _Road to Ruin_ album”.

“I was leaning more towards _Love kills_ from _Animal Boy_ , but you do you” Martin shrugs and he can’t help but chuckle when Jon narrows his eyes at him.

“I’m seriously starting to think you do this on purpose”.

“You two are not pulling an all-nighter, are you?” comes a new voice from the stairs, it’s Melanie, she finishes going down, staring at them with raised eyebrows.

“Nah” Martin answers first, “just killing some time, I’m going to go have dinner with Uncle Peter tonight, well, with Uncle Peter and his… _lovely_ husband”, he crosses his arms, wincing.

“Oh, you poor thing!” Melanie says sympathetically, Jon realizes that she means it, despite how often it’s not the case with her, “I can’t imagine having a monster like that in my family”.

“Just because Elias is married to my uncle doesn’t mean he is _family_ ” Martin protests as Melanie walks past both their desks to get to her own so she can grab her stuff. “They aren’t even married right now!” he pouts, which makes Jon chuckle and the redhead blushes, realising that it sounds pretty much like he is throwing a tantrum.

Once Melanie leaves, Jon prepares to do the same, he sends a quick text to his sister, letting her know he is on his way home and does she need him to pick up anything? _Really_ , _Annabelle, if you do need something, tell me now_. She quickly answers that there isn’t anything they need, and that they’re having pizza for dinner, and, _yes_ , she ordered the food crime that Jon calls _topping_.

“What has you smiling so much?” Martin asks as he too packs up, Peter should be here to pick him up soon.

“Anna is ordering pizza” he shrugs as he goes up the stairs, Martin right behind him. “She says putting anchovies on it is a _food crime_ , and yet she puts _fruit_ on hers”.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me she is on the _pineapple team_ with Tim” he says, turning off the lights on his way out, Jon shrugs with a wince and Martin imitates him as he closes the door with the faded golden plaque that says _Archive_ behind him. “Ugh, why do they do that to food? It’s a savoury food! Anchovies go _just fine_ with it.”

Jon perks up at that, they start to walk the long hallway towards the exit. The fluorescents hadn’t been working for a while here, and seems like Elias hasn’t bothered in changing them, well, at least is better than when it flickered like some cheap horror film set. The only light source comes from the door at the other side of the corridor, which leads to Artefact Storage’s door and the hallway to the institute’s main entrance.

“Right? That’s what I always tell her. I wouldn’t have pinned you for a bloke who goes for anchovies on pizza, though.”

“Well, I do come from a family with a lot of seamen, Jon; of course I like sea food, but we’re totally ordering a big one with anchovies next time we go out for pizza, it will annoy Tim to no end”.

“And Melanie too, she can’t stand the smell of…” Jon frowns at something in front of them, “…anchovies”.

There’s two men in front of the door, their smiles are strange, but aside from that, they look pretty normal to Martin, even if they’re wearing similar clothing, then again both he and Jon are wearing similar clothes too, because of institute dress code and all that, so he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Sorry, can we help you?” he asks.

The men look… average? Nothing about them is immediately noticeable, but when their smiles grow impossibly wider, he just knows this is going to be nothing but trouble.

“What do you two want?” Jon demands, not in an aggressive way, but not nicely either, as he stays in front of Martin.

Martin’s heart beats faster at the sight, and then the men come closer; making it beat even faster for a very different reason. The thoughts of either asking them _the_ question ( _Which patron do you serve?_ ) or showing them the medallion with the Lukas family crest to show them who _he_ is cross his mind, however, he decides on the first one, since it sounds more diplomatic, and Martin isn’t really one for namedropping. He opens his mouth to speak, but one of the men does so first.

“Well, isn’t it cute, Hope?”

“It sure is, Breekon!”

“ _Stay behind me_ ” Jon protectively hisses over his shoulder, only for them two to hear.

Martin has never been more in love.

Then Martin realises that this is not a romance novel and that while he is, in some ways, a prince, Jon is not exactly a knight in shining armour so he can’t really beat the bad guys. Well, that’s unfair, he doesn’t know if they’re really the bad guys, plus he always prides himself in giving people (supernatural or not) the benefit of the doubt! He should do the same now.

Jon seems to know who they’re, though, and the way they start advancing towards them is actually a bit intimidating, so maybe they aren’t friendly avatars. Just as the men are a few meters away from them, Martin starts to feel cold, but also feels himself starting to relax, only a few seconds are needed for him to realise why.

The room is starting to fill with a thick white fog that pools around their ankles.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” a friendly _known_ voice asks.

Martin looks past the men, and a sigh of relief almost escapes his lips when he sees Peter Lukas himself standing at the door, hands in his pockets and smiling softly like he usually does. Now, Martin is pretty tall, something he has always been proud of, but his uncle is taller (it runs in the family), and since he is backlit by the light of the hallway behind him his shadow looms over them. It makes the men recoil and even Jon seems a bit put off by the captain’s presence, but Martin immediately feels safer with him here.

“We’re just here to make a delivery” says one of them in that obnoxious and obviously fake Cockney accent, probably Breekon, or probably Hope.

Then the other thrusts a manila envelope at Jon, who accepts it, somewhat reluctantly, the first one proceeds to show him a clipboard where he has to sign that the delivery had been received. Martin is still shaken, but tries not to show it. He peeks over Jon’s shoulder as he signs in his immaculate handwriting, _Breekon and Hope Deliveries_ , ah, yes, he remembers them now, the creepy delivery men that seem to work for avatars and fears only.

They leave soon after that.

“I better go leave this on my desk, just in case” Jon says, “see you tomorrow, Martin”.

“Ah! Good night, Jon, uh, don’t fall down the stairs!” he immediately feels like an idiot, _don’t fall down the stairs_ , really, Martin? His cheeks heat up. “Just because it’s, uh, dark and all, be- be careful is what I mean” god, he is a dumbass. Jon smiles, one of those smiles that if you don’t know Jonathan Sims Fielding, you won’t know it’s a smile.

“I will try not to fall down the stairs, thank you.”

Once Jon turns the light back on and closes the door behind him, the redhead can hear his footsteps retreating back into the archive. He wants to cover his face and groan, but he still has company, so he instead cups his own face, hoping that his cold hands will bring his temperature down. Peter chuckles and Martin glares at him, the captain smiles, but doesn’t talk.

“Don’t say anything” he warns anyways.

“We better go home, Martin” his uncle smiles and he nods, glad to be dropping the subject. “I hope you are in the mood for some risotto”.

“That sounds nice, is your husband joining us?”

“I’m afraid not, he has some work he needs to finish and he says he will be late coming home, oh, stop smiling!” Martin giggles when his uncle chides him, but he can see Peter is smiling too. “He cheats on me with his budgets and spreadsheets”.

“Well, you cheat on him with the Tundra” Martin supplies, and smiles when that takes a chuckle out of Peter.

They pass by Rosie’s desk and find it empty; it must be later than he thought.

Once they get inside of Peter’s fancy white Toyota SUV, parked on the street across from the institute is that the seaman realises his nephew has new earrings, having those is not really much of a deal to him, he himself has a silver stud earring on the left ear and Elias does sometimes wear a drop earring with his patron’s imagery dangling from the chain. No, the problem here is that Martin’s earrings resemble a pair of golden spiders, he asks about it as he starts the car and Martin bashfully tells him that they were a gift from a friend. He questions about _which_ friend.

And Martin admits who gave him the gift.

He has a soft spot for his nephew, mostly because of the fact he sees himself in Martin a lot, Peter remembers how it was, to be young and scared of what people would think of you because of who you love, or how you act, or what family do you come from, how is much, much easier to be invisible and alone where they cannot judge you or point at you with accusing fingers telling you that you’re different and do not belong. He knows he is actually the second person Martin ever come out to, and it was by accident, god, he remembers how scared he was that Peter was going to be _angry_ with him because his mother had been. He remembers the fear in his eyes and thinks the same fear may have once shown in his own eyes.

That doesn’t mean he is going to allow for his nephew to be seduced by a _spider_. Who is not to say he is not trying to manipulate his nephew for his own amusement?

“We’re just friends” Martin says, cheeks a light pink as Peter parks in the drive way of the lavish manor house he shares with his husband when he is not at sea, it’s not too far from the institute.

Peter looks at him, hands gripping the wheel as thunder rumbles above. It will start raining soon.

“When I first introduced Elias to your Nana I told her he was my friend too, you don’t have to be embarrassed”.

“I’m not embarrassed! We really are just friends” he complains, crossing his arms and looking away from his uncle. “I-, well, he doesn’t like me that way.”

“Why? You’re a Lukas, you’re royalty, he should be _grateful_ you have feelings for him”.

“I don’t have feelings for him!” Peter cocks an eyebrow and Martin blushes more, turning to face the window again. “Okay, maybe _some_ feelings, but they’re small feelings”.

“Exactly who are you trying to fool, you or me? Because, let me tell you, it isn’t working either way, Martin”, the redhead doesn’t say anything, “let’s go inside, it will rain soon and your Nana will disown me if you catch a cold or something”.

* * *

_I’ve been a liar, been a thief, been a lover, been a cheat. All my sins need holy water, feel it washing over me… well, little one, I don’t want to admit to something, if all it’s gonna cause it’s pain. Truth and my lies right now are falling like the rain, so let the river run…_

Tim turns the volume of his radio up as he drives towards the institute, it’s early morning and he is feeling very positive that this is going to be a good day, he found some new information that may be good against the Unknowing, plus, Jon promised he would show them what he, Martin and Melanie found in Gertrude’s secret deposit. The redhead didn’t say much, only that he _can’t wait to see Tim’s face when he sees it_ , and Jon did promise that it would be _cathartic_ for him. Oh my, could it be a flamethrower? God, he would love a flamethrower.

He parks in the institute parking lot, before grabbing his backpack and folders. Sasha is going to love this.

On the creepy lightless hallway that leads to the basement he finds Martin hurriedly speaking on the phone, his face a little pale, Tim’s first thought is that something happened to either his mother or his nana, but when he spots the other man, he holds his palm up to stop him and murmurs for the person on the other side of the line to give him a second, then he puts the phone against his shoulder.

“Go talk to Jon, _now_ ” he says, before going back to the conversation with however is on the other side.

Down in the basement, Jon and Melanie are talking on their own phones as well. The man with the tattoo is checking the corkboard as if he expected the answers he desperately craves to show up there, his mouth moves as he speaks, as if he was possessed and the words were coming out on their own, Tim has never heard him talking so fast and so urgently.

Sasha’s door is wide open, but he can see, even from where he is, that it is empty. Where’s Sasha?

Jon finally seems to notice him and he hears the last words he says.

“Tim is here, I’ve got to go, you and Basira start searching, Daisy. I will make the rest come here to give them instructions” he hangs up. “Tim, come here, sit down”, he complies.

“Jon, what’s going on?” the man winces and they both look at Melanie, her face grim, as she still talks on the phone, she taps a paper on her desk, looking at Jon, before nodding and giving him a thumb up, Tim doesn’t know what that means, but she doesn’t miss the look she gives him either.

And Jon tells him, he tells him about the visit from Breekon and Hope the night before, the delivery of the mysterious envelope, how he let it in the archives to keep it safe and only managed to open it this morning, and had he known that it was so important he would have opened before.

Nikola needs a very special item for the Unknowing to succeed.

That item is the skin of the Archivist.

“What does that mean?” he demands, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

They’re interrupted by Annabelle, hurriedly coming down the stairs followed by two men, one a fancy dressed man with a lightning bolt scar crawling up his neck and the other a black man with long dreadlocks in a half bun, dressed all in black. A third man, much taller and dressed in gym clothes with the hood of his jacket pulled up, quickly descends behind them. Tim doesn’t know any of them, he doesn’t think he does, at least, but Jon quickly comes to introduce them and assures him that they know each other, even if this is the first time they met in person.

“You do know them, Tim; you know them as _Co_ _roner_ , _Boneturner_ and _Lighting Bolt_ ” Annabelle gently supplies, with a friendly smile that does not reach her eyes. He recognises the names, realising they’re from the silly group chat Jon added him to. He wishes he could laugh. “They’re my friends, we’re here to help”.

The men introduce themselves again, this time with their real names: Mike, Oliver and Jared, he shakes their hands and nods, but he is not really paying attention to what’s happening around him. No, all his mind is capable of conjuring right now is: _Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, Sasha, where is Sasha? Where is she? Sasha, Sasha, what’s happening with Sasha?_

At least, not until Jon practically shoves the manila envelope into his hands and tells him to look inside. His face is the one of someone who is in pain and Tim realises that his friend may not have wanted him to see it at all. He takes it and lets the contents fall onto the wooden surface of the desk; there are three Polaroid pictures and a note inside. His blood runs cold as he stares at them.

The first picture is of Sasha, having lunch with Melanie in a café near the institute, both women are laughing and the shot seems to have been taken from the other side of the street.

The second one is also of Sasha, this time she is walking alone down the street, her practical yet elegant workbag hanging from one shoulder, her back is to the camera, she seems to be going towards the station to take the tube, the camera is closer to her and, just like with the other picture it’s broad daylight.

The last picture is the one that breaks his heart the most. Sasha is in a dark indistinguishable room, she is tied to a chair and she’s gagged with a cloth tied around her mouth, her head delicately rests against her shoulder, her eyes closed, as if she was just sleeping.

It’s the note that makes his blood boil in anger and hurt, it’s a simple paper note that has letters made of magazine cut-outs, like those you would see in on a noir novel. The five words in mismatched typographies are enough to ignite a fire of hatred that burns all the numbness away.

_Do you want her back?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: Off-screen kidnapping.  
> -  
> Tim/Melanie friendship rights!  
> No, but really, they both hate Elias and they both wanted to leave the institute, they could have been friends in canon, y'all!
> 
> Also, I have hidden a reference in this chapter, let's see if anyone finds it!


	9. Search and Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Statement of Michael, taken from subject, regarding his becoming and his failed ritual, Sasha James recording.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Bubblegum (Cigarettes After Sex)

Sasha has lost count of how many minutes, hours or perhaps days had passed since she had gotten here. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but she knows it won’t be long until she falls asleep again. Her eyelids are already dropping and she knows it’s only a matter of time, but no amount of sleep leaves her rested. Had perhaps Nikola gave her something to keep her weak? She is so sleepy…

No! She has to try and stay awake, what if she is asleep when Nikola comes back? What if her friends come and they can’t find her? No, she can’t think that, the boys are coming to get her… right? They will eventually notice her absence and come and take her away from here! Wherever _here_ is.

As her eyes close once more, she hears a door opening and a bright yellow light washes over her, she squints against it, realizing someone is in the doorway. Panic overtakes her as the figure approaches and tries to touch her, she tries to scream and squirm away in return, she won’t go down without a fight.

“Shh… no, Sasha, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re safe!” the figure whispers, taking her face in his hand, and she freezes.

“Tim?” she asks hoarsely as the man carefully removes the gag.

“Yes, baby, is me, you’re safe” he looks more relieved than her as he smiles, before kissing her forehead. “We were so worried about you…”

Tim didn’t know how long he had been walking in the Spiral’s hallways, but he didn’t care as long as it led him to Sasha. Jon had surprised everyone by taking the lead and, once everyone had gathered in the archives, started to give instructions. The only people missing from that little reunion were Daisy and Basira (already out there looking for the missing archivist) and, of course, Elias, because Jon said he was probably aware of what was happening and wasn’t going to be much help. The spider had separated everyone by groups of two and gave them a place to look.

He had asked who was the most likely to find her, and Jon answered that Daisy was the best candidate, given that she is with The Hunt and tracking down avatars comes as second nature to her, then he asked _but who will find her faster?_

The answer was Michael.

So, armed with nothing but a Bowie knife that actually belongs to Melanie, _‘if you find anything don’t go for the heart, that doesn’t work for those like us, try to incapacitate it by going for the face’_ , she had said, he walked alongside Michael down the endless corridors.

He doesn’t tell Sasha any of this, no need to worry her, not when she looks so… vulnerable, so fragile, like the wrong word could break her. She is pale, the bags under her eyes are pronounced, god, what had they done to her? She seemed fine just yesterday! Her arms drop like dead weight when he cuts away the rope binding her wrists and proceeds to do the same with her ankles.

“This place is not friendly to her kind, perhaps she needs to eat” Michael suggests from the door. “I could provide”, the offer makes Sasha look up at him, eyes pleading.

“Do we have time?” Tim asks.

“I believe we do… is your tape recorder running?” Sasha nods, so subtly that if Tim wasn’t paying so much attention to her face he would have missed it. “Say it, _archivist_ ”

“Statement of Michael, taken from subject, regarding…” she barely manages to say, her green eyes glowing softly.

“My becoming and my failed ritual” he supplies.

“Statement of Michael, taken from subject, regarding his becoming and his failed ritual, Sasha James recording”, she repeats, sounding slightly better now. “Statement begins…”

So she listens, she listens and learns a little more about her predecessor her weakness and nausea are fading, but soon the nausea comes back when she learns what is that Gertrude did to Michael. She had felt slightly bad when she called her a _stone cold bitch_ during that one talk with Tim, but now she feels she deserved that and so much more.

Michael finishes by saying that a part of him wants to kill the archivist because he wants revenge, but he won’t do anything against Sasha.

“I won’t, the urge is not as strong as… well, there’s something else Michael wanted more…”

“Oh?”

“Michael was once tasked with taking care of a pair of siblings whose father had come into the Magnus Institute to talk with one Elias Bouchard”, the Distortion explains calmly. “A pair of siblings made up by a young little boy with the spark of The Beholding in his eyes and an even younger little girl with a personality sweeter than sugar, the little boy was interested only in his books, but the little girl showed interest in Michael, who kindly reciprocated, sitting to draw with her as she talked to him the way only little kids can.

“If Michael had knew better, he would have perhaps noticed that these were not normal children. Gertrude, of course, did not see kindly to having these children in the archives, but she herself had a reunion, so she barely even noticed them! When the siblings left, the little girl promised she would _never ever_ forget him and Michael, an only child who always wanted a younger sibling, had thought that was the most adorable thing.

“Michael never saw the little girl again, not until he became _me_ , at least. Several years later, after my becoming, I was summoned, and there she was, the little girl, now a young lady, accompanied by a young man that once was the curious lad that Michael knew, but it was different now, he could now see them for what they really were, _I_ could see them, I knew the moment I lay my eyes on them that these were children of The Spider.

“But I could also see the underlying sadness on her eyes, for the little girl didn’t have friends to call her own, she had human friends, sure, but, unlike her brother, she did not have friends that were the same as her, friends that belonged to our world. Like I said, I am Michael and Michael is now me, and Michael wanted the little girl to smile again and so did I. So when the little girl asked if I recognized her, if I remembered that she was Annabelle and that we were friends, I said _yes_ and welcomed her with open arms.”

Seeing as the statement is over, they prepare to leave. Tim has an arm around her waist and has draped one of her arms around her shoulders; she should be better after having a statement but her knees still feel weak.

“Don’t let me fall” she begs Tim, softly, barely above a whisper.

“I would never.”

“All set! Just open the door, friends!” Michael says, laughing that laugh of his. “You better hurry up!”

The door is not moving, it’s locked and Tim can’t get really pull with much force given that he is holding half of Sasha’s weight against him.

“It’s locked! Michael, give me a little hand here!”

“I can give you a big one!” he offers in that cheerful voice of his, as he tries to open the door, but he can’t seem to open it either.

“Michael?”

“Oh, no…” it’s the last thing Michael ever says, before a horrifying scream fills the room and Sasha blacks out.

* * *

When Sasha wakes up again, she is tucked in an unfamiliar bed in an equally unfamiliar room. It’s not a very big room, but it looks as comfortable as the fluffy blankets around her, she actually would like to go back to sleep, thank you very much. Her eyes flutter shut as she turns, noticing the bed clothes have a faint trace of a man’s cologne, which makes her open her eyes and look around again, where is she?

“Oh, thank goodness, you’re awake” says Tim, entering the room; the door makes a strange metallic noise when he closes it behind him, but she smiles in relief when he walks towards her to sit at the edge of her bed. “Do you feel any better? We will be reaching the London port soon”.

“Reaching the London port… what? Tim, where are we?” she tries to sit up but he eases her back down with gentle hands on her shoulders. “Tim?”

“We’re in the Tundra”.

“In the Tundra?”, she repeats slowly, trying to sit up again, this time her friend helps her, moving the pillow a bit so she is more comfortable. “The Tundra as in the cargo ship?” he nods, taking her hands in his, “but how?”

Before Tim can even open his mouth to answer her, someone knocks and the door opens again. A man enters the room; he is tall and broad, and, even if she doesn’t usually fancies bearded men and this one seems old enough to be her father, she finds him quite handsome too. She then notices he is dressed like a captain. Sasha doesn’t even need to be told who this is. Her eyes try to find any resemblance the man may have to Martin, they’re related, after all, but they look so different…

“It’s good to see you awake, Miss Archivist” he says, his voice unexpectedly friendly, taking off his captain’s hat to place it over his chest. “I’m Captain Peter Lukas, nice to meet you!”

Ah, there is. His smile is as friendly as Martin’s and she finds herself smiling back.

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Lukas, and thank you for letting us stay on you ship”.

“Ah, please, call me Peter and don’t thank me, thank Martin, he is the one who asked me to go look for you”, he finishes by putting his hat back on, “I just came to tell you we will arrive soon to the London port, I will take you to the institute myself, I do need to see Elias anyways.”

“Thank you, really” she smiles and the old captain nods, before leaving again.

Still smiling, she turns back to Tim, who remains next to her, but he is… frowning at the door? What? The frown instantly disappears when she calls his name, he smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, he says they have to leave soon. She can sense something is wrong.

“ _What’s wrong with you?_ ”

“I am jealous of the way you were looking at that old man”, Tim blinks, his expression as surprised as hers.

“Tim, what the…? Tim, my god, he is old enough to be my dad!” she exclaims, cheeks red with embarrassment, “plus, he is Martin’s uncle!”

They stay in silence for a bit.

“How did you do that? You asked and I wasn’t going to tell you, but I did. Is… is it one of your archivist powers or…?”

“I… don’t know? Jon called it _compelling_ , said Gertrude could do it too, I, uh, compelled him on accident once, I… I am so sorry, I can’t control it yet”, he doesn’t even look at her. “I will try for it not to happen again, but I can’t promise you it will not.”

He continues to not look at her when he softly answers.

“Okay…”

* * *

Peter keeps his word and takes them to the institute, the ride is a bit awkward for Tim, mostly because of his little exchange with Sasha on the Tundra before arriving at the port, it’s just that he feels so embarrassed he can barely look at her.

He knows he is not entitled to Sasha’s attention, they’re friends, yes, but they’re not dating, even if he wished for the opposite, so she can give dreamy looks to as many men as she pleases and he can’t say anything about it. Sasha had made it clear that theirs was going to be one-time kind of thing and he had agreed. After their little _ill-advised hook up_ , as he called it once, he was happy just remaining friends with her, they both even dated other people as well, but Tim found himself looking for excuses to go over to Sasha’s section of the office when they were still together in Research, or feeling butterflies every time he heard her laugh. His mother has always loved to say he is quite the lovesick boy.

Maybe that’s why he accepted the transfer to the archives? To feed that selfish part of him that wanted to stay close to her?

Now, aside from the closeness, there’s something else he wants, he wanted it that day when Prentiss attacked the institute and they were locked in Document Storage, he wanted it the day Jürgen Leitner was murdered and she was left crying inconsolably and shaking like a leaf, and, more than anything, he wanted it today when he found her tied down and gagged, when he leaned on him like her life depended on it, when she asked him not to let her fall…

He wants to protect her, to wrap his arms around her and whisper the sweetest reassurances in her ear, tell her that no one will hurt her ever again as long as he is here, that with him she is perfectly safe.

But Tim is only human.

He barely notices getting to the institute, it is past the time to go home, but they stumble upon Rosie leaving the institute, she tells them that _Mr. Bouchard_ is down in the archives; they exchange a look and proceed to go to the hallway and then the staircase. The whole trip is silent and Sasha would have forgotten that Peter Lukas was right behind them if it wasn’t for the thin translucent mist around their feet; he wonders if Tim can see it too.

When they reach the door to Artefact storage, they are close enough to hear Elias calmly explaining something to someone.

“…look, I understand you’re upset, I was doing everything in my power to locate her…”

“You should have said something!” she hears Melanie scream, “God knows what could that clown bitch do to her!”

They finally reach the hallway leading to the archive; Martin has his hands on Melanie’s shoulders the knife in a white knuckled grip in her hand makes it evident that he is trying to keep her from jumping at Elias’ throat. Jon stands as close as them as he is able, giving the impression that he is prepared to intervene should he do so, but Sasha knows he is not stupid enough to get in Melanie’s way.

“Sasha!” Martin exclaims, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Melanie chooses that moment to put her knife away, for now, and Jon hurries to check her for injuries. Martin, on his part, wraps his arms around Peter, who looks very out of his depth as he awkwardly pats his nephew’s back with one hand.

“Thanks, Uncle Peter!”

“My office, Peter?”, Elias offers, as if they were the only ones in the room.

They watch the men depart; Jon, Melanie and Tim do so with narrowed eyes, while Martin does so with an arm protectively wrapped around Sasha’s shoulders.

“I hate that if Elias wasn’t a bastard we would be saying he and Peter are _goals_ and calling them our gay dads” Sasha scoffs, once they leave, crossing her arms and surprising everyone. “I hate it.”

“Moving forwards” Jon says, trying to ignore what he just heard, “we have to discuss…”

“Hold up, is it safe to talk here?” Melanie interrupts.

“Yes, this hallway is as safe as the archive itself.”

Jon had told them about that a while ago, apparently, that horrible feeling of being watched that permeates the institute has to do with the manifestations of Elias’ powers, The Watcher’s Gaze, as their friend had called it, is stronger in the archives and had Jon not turned it into a blind spot with the help of his spiders, it would have probably not been good for anyone’s mental health, since having that kind of watchful attention could have led to paranoid breakdowns and they already have enough on their plates.

“I never asked you how you and your spiders _protect_ the archives” Sasha muses out loud.

Jon nods, before gesturing to the door behind him were a lone spider, a tarantula, is making their way down a thread of cobweb.

“Meet Emma, she is the one I’ve had the longest and the one who guards the door” the arachnid stops mid-air and moves one of her furry little legs, as if waving, “that’s how she says hi.”

“Hello, Emma!” Martin says excitedly, waving back, his enthusiasm makes Jon smile.

“So, they have names?”

“Yes, Tim, they have names, each one of my spiders is named after a woman I know.”

“What was the mean one called?” Melanie asks.

“The mean-? Ah, that’d be Mary; she is over there in the other corner because she doesn’t like people very much. Aside from Mary and Emma, I’ve five more tarantulas: Daisy, Basira, Melanie, Georgie and, more recently, Sasha.”

“Aww, Jon, that’s so sweet!” Sasha says, delighted, “can I meet her, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Since you ask so nicely” he shrugs, before starting to look around in his jacket, “she’s the smallest; she joined the cluster a few weeks ago, when they’re this small they tend to stay with me until they grow enough to go around on their own-, ah, here she is” he extracts his fist from one of the inner pockets of his jacket before opening his hand for them to see the small grey spider with a black spot on her back that lies on his palm. “She’s a bit shy.”

“Oh, my god, she is so small”, Martin coos.

Without saying a word, he takes one of Martin’s hands and allows Sasha Junior to climb onto it; the redhead seems delighted at being allowed to hold the small arachnid.

“Well, she is still growing, see that spot on her back? It means she will have her first moulting soon, when that happens, their skin becomes very sensitive and it’s better for them to have their space, so I usually keep them on the terrarium I have at home.”

“Do you always have one you?”

“For future reference, always assume that I’ve at least one spider on my person at all times, unless stated otherwise. Well, enough about my little girls, we should go inside, I’ve some people that want to say hi to you, Sasha”.

“Yes, about that… Tim told me Annabelle is here? I may have something to show her, but it’s not pretty, Jon.”

* * *

Annabelle is not taking it well.

She is in Jon’s arms, bawling her eyes out and clawing at the back of his jacket as he shushes her and pets her bleached blond hair. They’re sitting in the worn leather couch of Sasha’s office; he had asked everyone to give them a minute and managed to get them all out before the waterworks started. He had only seen his sister crying like this a handful of times and, as he kisses her temple, he wishes not for the first time, that his sister doesn’t have to feel this way again. Her body still shakes with silent sobs, but she doesn’t make a sound aside from occasional sniffles.

“Okay, that’s enough, I’m fine” she says, pulling away from Jon, she sniffs as she wipes her tears away, her make up mysteriously intact. He doesn’t need his synaesthesia to tell him is not enough or that she is not fine, but he doesn’t know what else to do. “I don’t want to worry my boys” she says, and smiles. He smiles back, knowing he is included.

A bright yellow door that wasn’t there before creaks open, catching the siblings’ attention. At first, only a dark skinned hand with very, very long fingers is visible, but once the door completely opens, they both can see a figure. It’s a woman with a distorted smile and eyes that kind of hurt to look at. Jon can almost taste her presence, the way he used to be able to with Michael.

Annabelle inspects her, her eyes narrowing with curiosity, after a few moments, she stands up and walks over to her. The woman is much taller; she towers over the smaller blond woman, but she doesn’t seem perturbed by this. Jon, however, is more than ready to jump between them if necessary.

“Hello” Annabelle says, welcoming and friendly like usual, calm even, “what’s your name?”

“You can call me Helen.”

“Nice to meet you, Helen, my friends and I are going to go get some drinks, would you like to join us?”

* * *

_Licking the barrel of a gun, chewing it like it’s bubble-gum; wave it like a magic wand, other few rounds out just for fun…_

He is on the roof of the Magnus Institute, it is well past the leaving hour and he knows his friends are all the way down in the archives. After everyone warmly welcomed Sasha back, he decided to step away and get some air. He has his earphones with music on, if only to placate the noise outside. It’s a bit chilly, but nothing his jacket can’t withstand.

_Coming to get you on my own, hoping that I would take you home, picturing you with those other guys, driving me crazy, I don’t know…_

Tim is still wondering what is up with what happened at the Tundra, he has never been the jealous type, let alone jealous with someone he has no right to be jealous about, he and Sasha are not dating, he has to keep repeating himself that, he didn’t plan to fall in love with her, but then again, who wouldn’t fall for a woman like Sasha James? She is smart, witty, gorgeous, kind-… ah, there he goes again. Pining is supposed to be Martin’s thing, not his! He is not supposed to be in love (let alone so deeply) with Sasha James, period.

_Well I never wanted to be with you but I think I am falling, so what can I do? You’ll just leave me until we’re drowning in tears. Oh, and you holding me… as if I was the last man standing on Earth…_

He takes off his earphones without turning off the music, and the soft melody is immediately replaced by the bustling of the busy London evening, the loud noise of the rush hour of the commute home.

“Here you are” someone says behind him, it’s Melanie, hand on her hips as she smiles at him, “you’re hard to find when you want to, Stoker.”

“It is part of my charm, Miss King” he says with one of his trademark smug smiles then he gestures for her to join him. “Come take a look at this.”

She looks curious as she advances towards him, then she looks amazed at the view, it is dark enough that all the little lights are visible; casting a yellow glow over everything it touches.

“It’s beautiful” she says. “We totally have to tell Martin to write us a poem about this or something.”

“Yeah, so” he casually leans against the wall next to her, “when were you going to tell us about your lovely girlfriend? I thought we were friends, King.”

Among all the people who came at Jon’s request today, there was one Georgie Barker, famous podcaster who all the archives gang had heard of before. Georgie is not an avatar, so she stayed at the archives with Annabelle and Martin (the latter had been told by Peter to stay behind and that he would do the searching, Martin protested to no avail). She was one of the last to leave, but everyone was very surprised when Georgie kissed Melanie’s cheek and told her she would call her later, well, almost everyone, Jon seemed like he already knew.

“We’re! Or do you think I go out in the freaking cold like this for just anyone? Thing is, it’s a new relationship and all that, I didn’t want to… jinx it or something, you know how it is, but enough about me, I’ve been looking for you because thanks to you and you heroic acts today we may be closer to stopping Nikola, but you shouldn’t be alone right now, specially not after spending so long on Michael’s- _Helen’s_ hallways, spending so much time in the Spiral’s domains is not good for your mental health, you know.”

“Thanks for worrying about me” he smiles.

“Let it not be said that Melanie King doesn’t take care of her friends, now, let’s see if we can put a smile on that handsome face of yours, a little spider told me you hadn’t been yet introduced to our little plan against Clown Bitch.”

* * *

“Are you alright, Sasha?” Jon asks softly.

“Ah? Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Someone it’s forgetting I can taste lies” he retorts, almost sing-song like and it takes a chuckle out of Martin.

They’re walking down the street, towards a place that sells cheap and tasty Chinese takeaway; they figured that after the day they had, they deserved a little treat, everyone else had already left the archives, even Elias himself, or so they assume since his shiny BMW wasn’t in the institute’s parking lot.

“Ugh, fine! I’m… I’m worried about Tim…” she admits, and then finds that it feels good to share her worry and continues; “have you two noticed anything _off_ about him lately?”

“If you’re asking me if I noticed that he looks at me like he doesn’t know me, then yes”, Jon answers, bitterly, busying his hands by placing a cigarette on his mouth and fishing his lighter out of his jacket. “I mean, I get it, he has read Smirke’s work and I’m _very_ aware of his opinion on my kind, which was a very bold opinion, coming from a non-avatar and all that.”

“His opinion on your _kind…_ what do you mean, Jon?” she asks slowly. Jon grumbles something intelligible as he takes a couple of steps ahead of them, the archivist frowns, before looking at Martin. “ _What is he talking about?_ ”

“He is talking about how most of the people in our world think spiders are untrustworthy and highly likely to manipulate you for their own personal gain” Martin stops dead in his tracks, mouth agape, as if now realizing the words that had come out of his mouth. “Oh, my god, Jon, I- I- I don’t think like that! I- I trust you, Jon…”

Jon turns to look at them and by God; Sasha had never seen his eyes look so… _gentle_ as he smiles at the still flustered redhead.

“I know, Martin” he turns and starts walking again. “To be fair, until I met you I had the belief that all the Lukas men were self-centred arseholes.”

“Hey, that’s not-! Wait, what do you mean by _until I met you_? Jon?” when the shorter man doesn’t answer, he quickly catches up with him, “what’s that supposed to mean, huh?” Sasha can’t help but to smile as she looks at them, they had gotten quite close.

“It means what you think it means, Blackwood.”

“Ugh, you can be _infuriating_ sometimes, you know that?”

“Yes”, he answers looking pretty much like that meme with the cat and the knife.

“You know what?” Sasha says, catching up with them, “I say we stop by the bakery if it is still open and buy Tim’s favourite cake, how does that sound, lads?”

* * *

The tunnels are exactly as he remembers from the last time he was here; they’re still cold and damp with the smell of confinement and dust still permeating the air. Melanie is still holding his hand, it’s a grounding weight, huh… maybe the Spiral’s hallways _did_ affect him more than he thought. They walk the place in silence, the echo of their footsteps the only sound they can hear.

Out of nowhere, she stops.

“Hey, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but, uh, I’m here if you need to talk or something.”

He looks at her, really looks at her. After Melanie joined the team, Tim did everything in his power to make her feel welcome; it had just felt like the right thing to do, giving that they were in this hellhole together until they find a way to get rid of Elias. On that note, Melanie is very creative when it comes to ways to annoy the hell out of Elias.

Melanie is giving him the choice to open up, to trust her.

Tim hasn’t been having a good few months, or a good year, to be honest. It feels like his friends are on a wavelength completely different from his, maybe they always have been, and he is just noticing it now, he is tired of being _alone_.

So he takes the chance Melanie is giving him.

“Actually if you don’t mind, there’s a little problem I have that could benefit from a female perspective.”

“Well, I’m all ears, do tell.”

After what happened with Danny, Tim severed all the connections he had, except for one: his mother, Hiroko Stoker. He was so hell-bent on revenge that nothing else seemed to matter, so he didn’t bother nor planned to make new ones when he joined the Magnus Institute. His idea was to just be around, be an arsehole if he had to, but he wasn’t getting attached to anyone any time soon. That’s when he found out that, _actually_ , the position of _Resident Prat_ was already occupied by one Jonathan Sims.

“Have you ever felt like you known someone, but then not anymore? Like, maybe you didn’t even know them in the first place?” Melanie makes a face. “Sorry, sorry, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“No, actually, you’re, but I think I may need some context first, are we talking about Jon or Sasha?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus Christ, Stoker.”

“I know, I know.”

“Right… well, let’s- let’s start with familiar territory” she says, “Jon says that you know a lot about Robert Smirke, have you read his book _Balance and Fear_?” he nods. “Oh, Tim, no. Ugh, this explains everything, you-”.

“This is not because of what Smirke says about spiders, okay?” Melanie raises her eyebrows, “well, maybe a little… but, Jon and I worked together in Research for _three goddamn years_ , and I learned more about him in a month at the archives than in the time before! If you work with someone for that long you at least know the basics, I didn’t even knew he had a sister until last year!”

“To be fair and I swear I’m not trying to be insensitive or anything, you didn’t tell him about your brother until recently, did you?”

“It’s different, Annabelle is alive and Danny… whatever, never mind, this was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have said anything” he grumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and starting to walk again, the goth woman quickly follows, remembering she is the one with the torch. The last thing they need is for Tim to get lost in the darkness. “It’s not like I can know what is lie and what it’s not, not like he does”, he murmurs, mostly to himself.

“Did he tell you about her?” she asks softly. He looks at her, confused. “About Annabelle, I mean, is he the one who told you about her?”

“Ah, actually yes, when we started working at the archives, I remember because I thought it was weird he never mentioned her before, I heard him mention a _flatmate_ but I thought he was referring to a girlfriend or something. Why?”

“Our world is a dangerous one, Tim, and if you know what happened to Raymond Fielding, you can’t really be surprised if Jon is a little… _overprotective_ , when it comes to his sister.”

“Oh, what does he think I’m going to do, seduce his sister?” he says sarcastically, before he looks away from the woman and grumbles to himself: “You seduce a cop _one_ time and suddenly everyone thinks you’re a man slag…”

“It’s not that, you twit. Why do you think our world stays so well hidden? We put out fronts, Tim, we pretend we are what we’re not, except of course for The Stranger. Back on topic, Jon not only has to hide what he is, he also has to protect Annabelle, I guess he feels like he is the only one who can, but _boy_ , does he suck at lying, he should be better at it, he is a _spider_ , for fuck’s sake” she shrugs, “what I mean it’s that pretending is _tiring,_ maybe he just thought he could finally be himself around you.”

“…you’re saying he was trying to show me that he trusted me and I pushed him away?” she nods.

“Have you two talked recently?”

“No…? I mean, he tried to talk to me but-… ugh, dammit…” he stares at his sneakers as they walk. _He tried, he is been trying to talk to me, but every time all I did was push him away because I was scared that he was going to lie to me, because I trust a stupid two centuries old book more than I trust my friend._ “I guess I should talk to him when we get back…” he says as a way to finish the conversation, but he doesn’t think he will be able to face Jon, not after all he has done…

“Yeah, I will take your word for it, now, here we are, are you ready to see how we are defeating the clown?” she says dramatically as she gestures at _something_ covered in cloth.

“I don’t know what is so impressive about-” Melanie uncovers the wooden box and the words immediately die in his throat. “Bloody hell, is that what I think it is?”

“Jon says it’s C4, but I think that it’s the only plastic explosive he knows. Daisy thinks this will be enough; she will be the one to set the charges. Hey, maybe she can teach you how to set them too”, he just beams at her in response and she smiles back.

* * *

**[Text conversation between Jonathan Sims Fielding and Annabelle Cane Fielding, Friday 01:07 am]**

**Annabelle:** Jon? I know you said “text me when you get home”, but I don’t think I’m going home, I’m too tired.

 **Jonathan:** Do you need me to pick you up, Anna? I’m still at the institute, but tell me where you are and I will go get you.

 **Annabelle:** Nah, I’m good, I’m spending the night at Oliver’s, Mike has to work tomorrow but Jared and Helen are staying too.

 **Jonathan:** Okay, I will pick you up in the morning; I’m heading home soon anyways.

 **Annabelle:** Jon, are you mad at Oliver?

 **Jonathan:** No, why? Should I be?

 **Annabelle:** You looked ready to rip him apart when he asked Martin if he wanted to join us, which is not fair, Oliver can’t help but flirt when he sees a cute bloke, it’s not his fault Martin is a doll.

 **Annabelle:** You had read receipts on, silly; I know you’re reading my messages!

 **Jonathan:** …you know how I feel about Martin.

 **Annabelle:** Yes, I do know, but Oliver doesn’t, and neither does Martin, so you’re in no place to act like a jealous dickhead when someone else asks him out or tells him he is cute or asks about his weekend plans, okay?

 **Jonathan:** Yes, you’re right. Do you think anybody else noticed?

 **Jonathan:** Anna?

 **Jonathan:** Annabelle, don’t leave me on read!

 **Annabelle:** I’m here, I’m here, just sleepy. Look, I think the problem isn’t if anyone else noticed or not, I think that what you need is to get your feelings straight, how do you feel about Martin?

 **Jonathan:** I don’t know! You’re the one who, how did you phrase it, gets a _vibe_ of these things?

 **Annabelle:** I do indeed, and it seems to me that you like him, like more than just a friend. Okay, let’s try a thing, how do you feel about kissing him?

 **Jonathan:** Excuse me? What are you talking about?

 **Annabelle:** You heard me! Or read me, I guess. So answer me truthfully, Jonathan Sims Cane Fielding! Do you or do you not want to give Martin K. Blackwood Lukas a big old smooch on his pretty freckled face?

 **Jonathan:** Clearly you had overindulged in the alcohol tonight and you’re drunk, Annabelle, so you’re going to go straight to bed and I will pick you up to take you out for breakfast in the morning.

 **Annabelle:** Ah, I see how it is, fine. We can talk about your feelings in the morning, dear brother, can we go to that place that has the cute balcony?

 **Jonathan:** Anything for you, princess, even if you’re a delusional woman with a weird taste in breakfast places.

 **Annabelle:** I love you too, my dear brother that has the emotional capacity of a carrot ‹3

 **Jonathan:** Good night, Anna.

 **Annabelle:** Good night, Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a very eventful chapter, I know, but get ready because we are going for a ride starting next chapter!
> 
> Congratulations, **SmallBear99** for finding the hidden reference! You were correct! Martin's line: _“…and he is so smart, and he says so many smart things, and I’m not dumb!”_ is a reference to Welcome to Night Vale's episode 16# Phone Call.
> 
> Also, I want to say thank you to all the lovely comments I am getting, you are all so lovely and amazing, I'm so happy every time I read that someone found my story helpful in any way or just that they liked it, so thanks for taking your time to read my crazy little AU ‹3


	10. Prepare the preparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin has a visit in the archives, also featuring moments where preparations are made before the big event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Hey, soul sister (Train), In the Aeroplane over the Sea (Neutral Milk Hotel)

“What do you mean you haven’t talked with him yet? It’s been _two weeks_ , Stoker.”

Tim groans, taking off his sunglasses and blinking at the fluorescent lights of the archives. Sure, having grey eyes is attractive and all, but he hates how sensitive to light, especially to sunlight, they’re. That’s one of the reasons he doesn’t mind the archives, it’s relatively dark down there, even in the sunniest of days with the small windows it has, not much light comes in.

“I know, Melanie, believe me, I know, I’m just waiting for the right moment.”

“Are you serious? What about Sasha, had you talked to her?”

Since he opened up to Melanie in the tunnels, they had grown a lot closer, something Tim is grateful for, is nice to feel like at least one person has your back. Now they’re walking down the hallway to go to the archives, they had agreed on getting coffee before clocking in for the day since they were a bit earlier that morning, they had already done it enough times that Tim already knows how Melanie takes her coffee and she knows how he takes his.

“We talked just yesterday, we were debating about if one of the statements was Stranger or Spiral, until Martin told us we were both wrong and it was actually the Lonely, oh, don’t look at me like that, it’s just… we are in for an awkward talk”, he stops and Melanie follows suit, “I may have done something stupid… when we were coming back from where they were keeping her.”

“Oh, no, what did you do?”

“Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

“I will try.”

“Good enough, oh, and promise me, for the love of God, Melanie King, that you will _absolutely not_ tell Martin” she nods, eager to hear what her friend has to say. “I, uh, when we were coming back to London on the Tundra…” she nods again, prompting him to continue, “well, uh, she was thanking Peter Lukas for helping us and I- I got jealous”

“You _what_ , oh, my god, Timothy Stoker, _you didn’t_ ” he nods, “Damn, Peter Lukas must really be a _DILF_ then”

“What the fuck, Melanie?”

“What? You’re pretty handsome, Tim, if Lukas managed to make you jealous he must be quite the looker! But wait, does Sasha know? You didn’t cause a scene, did you?”

“No! Of course, no! I was going to keep my opinions to myself, like a normal person, I’m not the jealous type, but…” he lowers his voice to a grumble, “she noticed something was going on and accidentally used her archivist powers and made me told her” Melanie makes a face, “as you may understand, I feel quite ashamed of myself”, the he frowns, “wait, you didn’t see Lukas when he dropped us off?”

“I mean, I did, but I didn’t get a good look, I was, you know, trying to get Martin to unhand me so I could stab Elias, but hey, in case no one told you, some fear entities make some feelings more pronounced, like mine makes people _angrier_ , the Eye makes people paranoid, maybe the Lonely made you insecure? We could ask Martin” Tim firmly shakes his head _no_ , “fine, fine, but yeah, I don’t think those were really your thoughts, just the fog of the Lonely toying with you, you’re a social butterfly, after all”, she reaches and pulls slightly at his sleeve, “let’s go, we don’t want to be late” they keep walking. “In other news, I’m finally picking up the motorcycle I was telling you about.”

“Oh, great, you finally got the deal for the Kawasaki Ninja?” she nods proudly and Tim lets out an appreciative whistle, “awesome.”

“Yeah, say what you want about working here, but the pay is amazing, tomorrow you’re going to see me come in my brand new two-wheeled baby.”

“What colour did you pick?”

“Black, like my soul” she answers solemnly, before they both burst into laughter.

* * *

“ _…É un piacere, sono Jonathan Sims, un amico di Martin…”_

Sasha freezes in the first step on the stair leading to the archives when she hears Jon talking to someone, it’s a female voice, but not one she recognizes. She decides it wouldn’t be exactly bad if she happened to listen for a bit, just to know what’s going on. She doesn’t want to be rude and interrupt an important conversation or something! Also, why is he mentioning that he knows Martin?

“ _Sono Michaela e questa é mia sorella Natalia. Abbaimo sentito molto parlare di te! Allora dimmi, quale paura servi?”_

 _“Servo del Ragno, la gente mi chiama il Burattinaio…_ the Pupeteer…”

Is when Jon repeats himself that Sasha’s eyes open wide because she realises he is speaking in a _foreign_ _language_ , she studied French in school and Greek in university, but that is neither! Her heart starts to beat faster in excitement. Does… does the Beholding grant her with the ability to understand any language? God, she needs to test this immediately!

Trying to not let on how excited she is, she finishes climbing the stairs, finding a curious scene. Jon is actually talking with _two_ women, they look almost identical, except for the fact that one has brown hair down pulled up in a classy bun and the other has waist-length hair dyed a pretty sea blue, they both have freckles and very familiar baby blue eyes. Their clothing couldn’t clash more; the one with blue hair is wearing a leather jacket, jeans, ankle boots and a band tee, while the other woman is wearing a very modest dress and coat that look like they come from the last century with Mary Jane low heels.

“Oh, good morning, Sasha” Jon smiles as he notices her, and so do the two women.

“Good morning-! What? Micah, Natty, what are you two doing here?” she turns to look at Martin, who finished climbing the stairs and looks in shock at the new women in the room.

“Martino!” the blue haired one shouts in delight before running towards him and jumping into his arms, “ _mio caro Martino! Il mio ragazzo preferito!_ ”

Tim and Melanie choose that moment to come down the stairs to find the curious scene with the blue haired girl now planting kisses on Martin’s cheeks as she has her arms around his neck, the tips of her boots barely touching the floor.

“Please, forgive my sister” says the second one with a thick accent and a fond smile as she gets up from the chair she was occupying, “she is very effusive, especially when it comes to our favourite cousin” she smiles fondly at Martin, who smiles back, “I’m Natalia Ricci Lukas, the Heiress”

“And I’m Michaela Ricci Lukas, the Duchess!” she looks at the man holding her by the waist so she doesn’t fall, “your turn now, Martino!”

“They already know my name and my title, silly”

“ _Il princippe abandonato_ ” Jon practically coos. “The Forsaken Prince”

“Wait, Jon, you speak Italian?”

“He does and very well too!” Michaela agrees as she releases Martin from her hug, “we were having a very nice conversation while we were waiting for you, which lead us back to the reason why we are here: to tell you some very good news!” she continues as if they were alone in the room. “We wanted you to be the first to know that _we are moving to England!_ ”

“What, for real?! No way!”

“Yes, we’re moving to be closer” Natalia continues, the smile present on her face, “Uncle Nathaniel is getting old, after all, and he may need a hand with the company, we thought it would put my Business and Marketing major to good use. He agreed to find us a flat here in London for that purpose so I can start at the shipping company as soon as we are settled.”

“Yeah… about that, do you think we could stay with you for a couple days? Just until we get our own flat, option B is staying with Uncle Peter, but while I do love him, I’m not a fan of his husband and you know that, he gives me the creeps.”

“What Micah means, is that we will appreciate staying with you, since Uncle Peter is going to sail for Puerto Deseado this week and we won’t like to… inconvenience Mister Elias.”

“Mostly so I don’t murder him in his sleep.”

“Michaela Ricci Lukas!” Martin chides.

“Yep, that’s me.”

* * *

There is a box in the archives now.

It’s a simple rectangular cardboard box, sealed with tape aside for a narrow, long slit on one side. It reads _Letters_ in permanent black market and it sits on one of the shelves. It was Melanie’s idea, it started as a joke (a morbid one, but a joke nonetheless), but now the box serves a real purpose.

The box is now full of letters that if worse comes to worse when The Unknowing happens, are to be delivered to the right recipients. The first letter was placed by Tim, who had written a letter to his mother, then Jon, who put two envelopes joined by an elastic band, the top one was addressed to his sister, but he didn’t said anything about the second one and nobody asked.

Sasha, even if she has been toying with the idea of leaving a letter to her father, hates that everyone seems to be setting their affairs in order, like they are going to die soon. Yes, the possibility is _there_ , but it’s not one hundred percent guaranteed that they won’t make it.

They had already decided who is going and who would do better staying. The designated group is made up by herself (she is not sure how useful can she really be, but Elias insisted, not going wouldn’t feel right anyways), Daisy (very vital part of the plan, since she is the one who knows how to set up the explosives), Jon (because, in his words, avatars of The Web can see through The Stranger’s lies), Basira (she insists on backing Daisy up, whatever that means) and Tim…

A sigh escapes her lips, she would rather Tim stayed behind with Martin and Melanie, but he is having none of it, especially not now that Daisy has taught him how to set the explosives, to be fair, maybe it’s for the best, they need as many eyes and hands as they can get for this.

Days and weeks are passing, the date in which The Unknowing seems to be going to be happening draws closer and closer.

Sasha hates that it’s like she is crossing days off the calendar of her own life.

* * *

The television is the only source of light in the darkened apartment, the curtains drawn as to not let the streetlamps shine inside. Melanie sits comfortably on the couch with a half empty bowl of popcorn in her lap, having finished yet another episode of the thrilling series she is watching. A glance at the clock tells her is barely past two in the morning, maybe she can watch one more episode?

Okay, just one more episode, and then to bed.

_…I knew when we collided, you’re the one I have decided who’s one of my kind… hey, soul sister, ain’t that Mr. Mister on the radio stereo? The way you move ain’t fair, you know, hey, soul sister…_

She looks at the clock again, surprised to hear her mobile phone ring. Melanie sets different ringtones for each one of her contacts, so she already knows who is calling as she reaches for it.

“Tim?” she asks softly upon answering.

“ _Melanie? Oh, thank god, are you at home?_ ”

“Yeah, I am, are you okay, Tim? You sound a little…” she searches for the right word, then settles with “… _off_.”

“ _I- I… Melanie, I did something stupid_ ” he admits, words stumbling over each other in the haste to get out. “ _Can I come over? I- I don’t want to be_ alone _right now_ ”

“Yes, it is okay, what happened? Do you need anything else?”

“ _Do you have a first aid kit?_ ”

An hour later, Melanie is wrapping a bandage around Tim’s forearm and hand; he had come in looking like mess and refusing to talk about what happened. At first, she was going to try and get him to talk, but the fear on his eyes dissuaded her from doing so. His shirt was unsalvageable, stained like it was with a dark fluid that looked suspiciously like ink, so she lent him one of Gerry’s shirts that she had lying around from the last time they stayed over. Now, Tim is silently staring at her work on his hand, he is too quiet and she finds that she doesn’t like it.

“You like Peaky Blinders?” she asks.

“Uh, no, not really…? I mean, I have heard about it, but I haven’t watched it.”

“Good, buckle up, you’re in for a ride, just let me get some more popcorn and a blanket”, he blinks at her, “don’t look at me like that, Stoker, you’re not leaving, not tonight and specially not in this state.”

“Oh, Melanie, so you do have a heart”, a sigh of relief almost escapes her lips when she hear the teasing tone in his voice.

“I do, but don’t let the word get out, I have a reputation to maintain!” she mock-complains, making him laugh.

* * *

**[Micah has renamed the group chat _The Only Three That Matter_ ]**

**[Natty has renamed the group chat _Micah Shut Up Challenge_ ]**

**[Micah has renamed the group chat _Royal brats_ ]**

**Natty:** Hm, fine, I shall allow it.

 **Micah:** Yay! But I’m right, though, we’re the only three that matter, Nona and Uncle Peter seem to think so, we’re the only ones fit to serve.

 **Natty:** If you want Uncle Peter’s validation _that_ badly, stop antagonizing his husband.

 **Micah:** Never! Elias is a useless twink and he shall die by my sword.

 **Martin:** I hate that you saying that sentence it’s partially my fault.

 **Natty:** It’s completely your fault, Martino. Who told you to teach her what a twink was?

 **Micah:** In Martino’s defence, I heard one of his friends say it, so I asked. By the way, he was a cute one, can I have his number?

 **Martin:** Whose number? Jon’s?

 **Micah:** I said the cute one!

 **Natty:** Hm, he got defensive there.

 **Martin:** I did not get defensive!

 **Micah:** You totally got defensive, and you’re valid. We support you, Martino <3!

 **Natty:** We do, even if he looks like… what have you called him, Micah?

 **Micah:** Oh, I said he looked like a sexy university professor, but I was being nice, he looks like he needs a nap and like he is old.

 **Martin:** He is literally the same age as me! I’m even a month and a half older!

 **Martin:** But I do agree on the first part, he _does_ need a nap, he works too much </3

 **Micah:** Maybe you two can nap together ;) ;)

 **Martin:** MICAH

 **Micah:** Ugh, you have such a dirty mind, Martino; I was talking about a _real_ nap, not whatever you have been thinking!

 **Martin:** Natty, help.

**[Natty has muted Micah]**

**Martin:** Thanks, Natty <3

 **Natty:** Anytime, Martino.

 **Natty:** Micah says to tell you that she hates us both and this is censorship.

 **Martin:** Tell her that I love you both, but I have to go to work.

 **Natty:** We love you too; do say hi to Mr. Workaholic for us.

* * *

“Melanie told me you wanted to talk to me?” Jon says, opening the door to Document Storage.

Tim freezes, he is sitting on the cot, a paper in his still bandaged hand and some other files around him. He hadn’t expected company, let alone Jon’s company, but he is tired of avoiding him, plus, they don’t have time for this, not anymore. So, he picks up some of the files, to leave Jon some space.

“Huh, yeah, you… you want to sit?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks.”

Silence falls between them; Jon is standing in front of Tim, having closed the door behind him when he came through. He stands straight, shoulders squared, as if he wanted to appear taller. He has seen him doing it before, mostly when he thinks he is in for a confrontation.

When Tim met Jon and they became friends, he always wished Jon would be more open and more willing to share, he always felt his friend needed to let loose a bit. Now, he has done both things and all Tim did in return was push him away, and he hates that.

“So… what did you need?”

“I…” here goes nothing, “I have been thinking and I wanted to apologise to you, for how I been acting.”

Melanie and Martin had repeatedly told him to put himself in Jon’s shoes, how would he feel if someone treated differently just for being himself? A part of him was angry, why has nobody considered how _he_ felt? To discover that the guy you have been friends with for years has in fact secretly been a spider monster all this time is quite jarring, but…

He has been thinking a lot and spider monster or not, the man before him is _still_ Jon. The same Jon that, when they met, Tim knew after just one look that he wanted to befriend because he looked lonely, the same Jon that he had once compared to a cat on the way he likes to give his affections, that Jon from Research is the same Jon from the Archives that, upon learning about his past with The Circus gave him all the tools he could to fulfil his revenge, the same that stood up for him when Sasha suggested he should stay behind and not go with them, the same Jon that consulted him on his knowledge about Smirke’s architecture and trusted his expertise before they ventured into the tunnels for explorations the first time.

“Oh… I mean, I get it, I’m used to it, it’s okay” his tone is soft and resigned, Tim wonders how many others had treated Jon this way, and swears to himself that he won’t be one of them, not anymore.

“No, it’s not okay!” he says as he stands, perhaps a little too forcefully, because it makes Jon flinch, “you-… it just feels like… like I don’t know you anymore, I don’t know how much of what I do know it’s true, but- but that doesn’t mean I get to act the way I did, so, let’s start again” he offers his hand, “hello, my name is Timothy Stoker, I like kayaking and videogames, and I fucking hate clowns”.

Tim is not sure what he is expecting, but when Jon chuckles and grabs his hand for a handshake, he allows himself to smile; maybe this is but the first step in the right direction.

“I’m Jonathan Sims Fielding, and everything you know about me is true, Mister Stoker.”

“Oh, no, even the fact that you like anchovies on pizza?” he mockingly asks as he lets go of his hand.

“I’m afraid so.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think we can’t be friends after all”, that makes them both laugh, “so, want to help me with this statement? Sasha thinks it is Circus-related” he moves to grab it and show it to Jon, who takes it, “but I don’t know, it mentions puppets, maybe that’s more your thing?”

“Alright, let’s see…”

* * *

Sasha finishes recording her latest statement and clicks the tape recorder off. She takes her phone and checks the time, only to find she has a text from Melanie. It’s a picture of Jon and Tim in Document Storage with papers and folders around them, the first one is sitting on the floor among the boxes with a fond but exasperated smile on his face, while the latter is sitting at the edge of the cot, batting a folder and openly laughing, the angle is a bit odd, she can see Melanie’s combat boots behind Tim so she guesses she is lying on the cot.

A second text reads: “ _The boys made up! :)”_ and it makes her smile.

Minutes later, she is quickly welcomed into a tea party that seems to be going on in the room. Martin and Jon are sitting in the floor, Melanie is lying down as she expected, but on her side, so she can drink from her mug (Melanie sometimes gets pains on the leg she was shot, so she usually stays sitting or goes to lay down in the cot when that happens) and Tim is at the edge of it, but he has moved a bit to leave her some space.

“Glad you could join us Sasha” Melanie says, tipping her mug as if in toast and Sasha mirrors the gesture as she sits next to Tim. “We were discussing what kind of musical instrument or simply music you think your entity would be represented with” she cocks an eyebrow, barely containing her smile. “Oh, c’mon, we know my patron has pipes, military march music and The Stranger has Circus music”.

“Mine gets static” Sasha decides. “I know, I know, _not an instrument_ , but it fits!”

“And mine gets the violin!” Martin follows.

“Huh, no, I think yours gets the singing saw” Jon intervenes. “Have you ever heard one?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so.”

“What in the world is a singing saw?” Melanie asks, bewildered.

“ _A musical saw, also called a singing saw, is a hand saw used as a musical instrument. Capable of continuous glissando, the sound creates an ethereal tone, very similar to the Theremin._ ”

Everyone turns to look at Sasha, who blinks in surprise of the words that seem to have come from her own mouth.

“Woah, what was that?” Tim asks with a hint of amusement on his voice.

“I think…” she hums thoughtfully, leaving her mug aside before clapping twice and extending her arms while dramatically exclaiming: “How do you pronounce Calliope?!” seconds pass as the others stare expectantly, but nothing happens. “Why have you forsaken me, Beholding?!” she demands, hands on her hips, “why me and not the twink upstairs running this _shitshow_?!” that makes everyone burst into laughter.

Jon takes that moment to play something in his phone, catching everyone’s attention.

_What a beautiful face I have found in this place, that’s circling all around the sun. What a beautiful dream, that could flash on the screen in a blink on an eye and be gone from me, soft and sweet…let me hold it close and keep it here with me…_

“This song has a singing saw… right there, can you hear?”

_…And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea, but for now we’re young let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see, love to be in the arms of all I’m keeping here with me…_

“Oh… that’s- that’s actually beautiful” Martin says, making Jon smile at him, he smiles back.

“This is the kind of song you just have to slow-dance to!” Tim declares, standing up and taking Sasha by the hand.

The woman laughs as she wraps her arm around his shoulder and Tim places a hand on her waist and intertwines the fingers on their free hands.

“You guys are _so_ cute!” Melanie teases.

“You laugh now, but you’re next!” Tim retorts, moving at the beat of the music.

“In your dreams, Stoker!”

_…what a curious life we have found here tonight, there is music that sounds from the street there are lights in the clouds, Anna’s ghost all around. Hear her voice as it’s rolling and ringing through me, soft and sweet, how the notes all bend and reach above the trees…_

Jon moves some papers and folders to give his friends some more space, before sitting next to Martin, closer than before. The redhead smiles at him and it’s like the whole room has lightened up.

Sadly, that was one of the few last good days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter this time around, everyone, but hey, Tim and Jon made up! Yay! Also Tim/Melanie friendship rights!
> 
> Alright, translations from Italian to English:
> 
> “ _…É un piacere, sono Jonathan Sims, un amico di Martin…”_ = “It’s a pleasure, I’m Jonathan Sims, a friend of Martin’s.”
> 
> “ _Sono Michaela e questa é mia sorella Natalia. Abbaimo sentito molto parlare di te! Allora dimmi, quale paura servi?”_ = “I’m Michaela and this is my sister Natalia. We have heard a lot about you! Now tell me, which fear do you serve?”
> 
>  _“Servo del Ragno, la gente mi chiama il Burattinaio…_ ” = “I serve the Spider, people call me the Pupeteer…”
> 
> “ _Mio caro Martino!_ _Il mio ragazzo preferito!_ ” = “My dear Martino! My favourite boy!”
> 
> "Martino" is simply the Italian version of Martin's name, I thought it would be a cute nickname for him.
> 
> I hope you like Martin’s cousins, Natty and Micah! Did Micah pull a Basira and call Tim the cute one? Yes, yes she did.
> 
> And don’t worry about Tim; he will be fine… for now.


	11. I’m too good at goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s finally time to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
>  Trigger warnings:   
>  **   
>  **Discussion of death/mortality; brief mention of religious themes/imagery.**
> 
> **Soundtrack:** Good Goodbye (Linkin Park ft. Stormzy), Too Good at Goodbyes (Sam Smith), Blood and Whiskey (The Mechanisms).

Jon has been having a few busy weeks, what with investigating and trying to find whatever information he is able to before the ritual takes place and making sure… making sure he says goodbye. He stopped by Gerry’s tattoo parlour a few days ago to see them, have an afternoon to themselves like they hadn’t had since… since he doesn’t remember when. Gerry had been the first to volunteer to accompany him to Great Yarmouth, but he said no and told Gerry that, if it all goes to hell, there is something- _someone_ more precious that Jon needs them to protect: Annabelle.

Visiting Gerry it’s not all he has done, of course. He has already visited Georgie and The Admiral, and right now he and his sister are on their way to Rose Hill Cemetery, this part was more Annabelle’s idea, but he figures it is fine.

They’re both in Oxford, the place that saw them grow up under Raymond’s care, the same place they came back to after they were sent to Bournemouth with Jon’s grandmother after their father died. He came back to study, having been accepted into the University of Oxford and Annabelle, not willing to part with her dear brother, enrolled into Wychwood School for Girls, not too far from the university and later attended St. Anne’s College before they both moved to London.

The place looks almost the same as last time, only the flowers had withered. Anna carefully kneels in front of the grave, caressing the name engraved in the stone.

_Raymond Fielding_

_(1959 – 2000)_

_“Let my laughter be the memory you treasure in your heart”_

“Hi, Daddy” she whispers, smiling, and then she proceeds to clean the dead flowers they left on their last visit. “Sorry for not coming sooner.”

Jon is not a religious person, but his father was a devout Catholic, if going to church every Sunday and dragging his children and the teens staying at the halfway house along wasn’t enough indication already, so he kneels next to his sister and pulls out an old rosary that belonged to Raymond, and then he takes her hand and whispers the _Our father_ prayer that he taught them under his breath. At the end, he makes the sign of the cross and puts the rosary away, but he thinks better of it and places it in his sister’s hand. They don’t say anything, they don’t have to, because she understands and places it around her neck.

When she was in college, Annabelle took an interest in the language of flowers, so if she is gifting them, she makes sure they mean something. She always picks the same for her father: Queen Anne’s lace (which symbolizes haven and sanctuary, both things she and her brother found in Hill Top Road with Raymond), hyacinth (which means playfulness, something very present in Raymond’s personality) and white carnations (innocence and pure love). The wind blows slightly on the hill as she places the bouquet, she smiles maybe that’s her father’s way of saying that he likes it.

* * *

“Here you go one homemade mochi and a cup of green tea” says the old woman, placing the plate and the cup in front of her son, before occupying the seat across from him. “So you’re going on a trip with your friends from the institute, Tim?”

“Yup, in a couple days, not sure when we are getting back, it’s one of those bonding exercise things. Basically, they’re paying me to be sociable and have fun with the team” she laughs.

“It’s everyone going?”

“Almost everyone” he admits, before taking a bite from the sweet treat his mother prepared. “Oh, god, I missed this, there’s a bakery near the institute that does Japanese sweets but it’s not the same.”

“Of course it isn’t” she replies proudly, “they don’t have my secret special recipe. Oh, I made a lot of mochis, maybe you can take some for your trip? I was planning to only leave some in the altar for your father and your brother, but I made too many.”

Tim’s mother Hiroko was born in Osaka, and while she doesn’t speak the language fluently since her parents moved to the UK when she was really young, she still likes to honour her culture in any way she can. Culture is something Tim has always showed an interest in, be it in the way of asking his mother about her country and her traditions or immersing himself in books that talked about far away foreign places. That combined with growing up in the bi-cultural environment of a Buddhist mother and an agnostic father is what made him go to choose to go into Anthropology in the first place.

In Hiroko’s culture, people who are Buddhist keep an altar on their homes to honour the deceased; it is common to leave offers such as flowers. However, Danny’s birthday was two days ago, so his mother has decided to leave some of Danny’s favourite sweets to honour the occasion. Tim has been planning on visiting his mother for that reason, because, in his mind, in just a couple of days justice will be served, Danny will be avenged.

He will make sure of it.

* * *

“You were right” he whispers to his sister as they’re going back the house, he closes the black iron gate behind them as they pass through it. She looks at him like she doesn’t understand. “I do feel better after going to see Dad” she smiles sadly.

“But you’re still going to Great Yarmouth.”

“They need me, Anna.”

“I am your sister and I need you more!” she exclaims, eyes starting to shine with unshed tears.

Jon turns to the door, placing the key in the lock, just to have somewhere else to look at that is not his sister in the verge of tears. Her words taste bitter, but only because she is mistaken.

“No, Anna, not anymore” he says as he smiles softly, his tone fond and a little sad too. “Let’s go inside.”

They leave their jackets in the coat rack next to the door. The house was rebuilt after Agnes destroyed it, by the time they wanted to initiate the construction, Jon was eighteen, meaning he was old enough to reclaim the property as his own and with money that he claimed was from Raymond’s heritance (when, in fact, it’s money he made when he was doing his first scams and discovered blackmailing was actually quite fun) he asked for the house to be rebuilt using the original blueprints, so it looks just as it did when he and Anna were kids, there’s only the warmth of Raymond’s presence missing this time around.

He goes into the kitchen and Annabelle follows him.

“Is this because of what happened between me and Nikola? Jon, if you’re going because of that-…”

“No, Anna, it’s not because of that and _stop worrying_. Everything will be just fine.”

“If that’s the case, then _what is this_ ” it doesn’t sound like a question, but Jon doesn’t have to wonder for long what she means, as she slaps some papers on the countertop.

“Oh… you found those” he frowns, “how?”

“I- I went into Daddy’s room, if you didn’t want me to find them, you should have thought of a better place than there, you know I always go there to clean up when we come here” she says, and it is true, well, she never lies, not to him at least. “Explain this, if you’re coming back, why did you went to the lawyer to sign these papers, huh? They say it very clearly!” she grabs the top one and starts to read, “ _I, Jonathan Fielding, declare that should a tragedy, such as illness, accident or other situation befell me, all of my properties, including but not limited to the house in the address 105 Hill Top Road in Oxford, my flat in London, and my grandmother’s house in Bournemouth should be forwarded to my younger sister Annabelle Fielding_ \- this is a fucking testament, Jon!”

“It’s just a precaution” he amends, getting closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, “a precaution that is good to have, but that will most likely be for nothing. Come on, Annie, I want to see your smile before I go back to London tonight”.

She throws herself into his arms and openly weeps; he winces but comforts her nonetheless. This was going to happen one way or another, to Annabelle is like he is marching off to an already lost war, like she will forever lose him like she lost their father. The latest two days were fine, the others understood he needed some time alone with his sister, so he took her to their childhood house and she is to remain there until this whole ordeal is over.

He had taken her shopping downtown, took her out for lunch and they had watched their favourite childhood film the night before: _Nightmare before Christmas_ , while they reminisced of how one Halloween they dressed as Jack Skellington and Sally, and that ended up reminding them of that time they made a family costume with their father as Gomez Addams and they as Pugsley and Wednesday. Raymond was very into celebrating both Christmas and Halloween, so of course he often made three cups of hot cocoa and sat down to watch the film with them. It was that talk that prompted Annabelle to suggest they should visit his resting place before Jon left for London and then Great Yarmouth.

She hugs him tightly, as if she wanted to never let him go.

“I love you, Jon.”

“I love you too, Anna” he kisses her forehead. “I really, really do.”

“I just don’t want to lose you too.”

“You won’t” he wonders if his own words would taste sweet should he be able to taste his own lies.

* * *

The day is here. Today they will meet at the Institute in the morning to leave for Great Yarmouth. Jon gets there early; he took the tube to get there, preferring to leave the motorcycle at home. A peek at the parking lot reveals that the others are not here yet, so he goes down into the archives, taking a look around the room he has worked in for around two years now.

“Jon?” someone asks from the stairs.

“Martin?” he retorts as the redhead finishes climbing down the stairs, they walk towards each other, meeting in the middle. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, well, _we are stronger where our patron reigns_ , aren’t we?” he shrugs, hand gripping the strap of his backpack.

“You’re going to Kent.”

“Yeah, ah, to the manor, my Nana asked me to and I can’t really say _no_ to her, otherwise I- I would stay here, waiting for you, a-and the others.”

“Then again, in the manor you’ll be safe” Jon reasons, god, this sounds strangely like the conversations they had back when they meet, stilted and awkward. This is not how his possibly last conversation with Martin was supposed to go.

“I rather be useful than safe, Jon.”

“And I personally prefer for you to stay safe” he insists, “but, uh, I may have something you can do for me” Martin immediately perks up at that and Jon hands him the big brown paper bag he had been holding, the man opens it, taking a look inside, “it’s not much but, I want you to have this… until I get back, of course.”

“Jon, this is your favourite jacket…” the freckled man says, stunned.

“Yes, and I do believe you will take good care of it.”

“Until you get back”, he says, looking for confirmation.

“Until I get back” he repeats in reassurance.

“Alright” Martin agrees, proceeding to close the paper bag and store it in his backpack that he leaves by his desk. “Well, I hate sitting around and doing nothing, tea?”

“That’d be lovely, Martin, thank you” he smiles at him and the redhead smiles back.

He starts walking to go set the kettle, but stops midway and turns to the other man.

“Oh, and by the way, Jon”, he points at him with his chin, “I love the outfit.”

Then he disappears into the breakroom.

Well, that was to be expected. He did forsake his stuffy office clothes in favour of something more comfortable, if he is dying tomorrow at midnight, he will go out in style. Almost all he is wearing is burrowed, except for the combats boots, those are his. The spiked choker is Gerry’s and so are the fishnets that peek beneath the top, that is actually one of Georgie’s old _The Cure_ band tees that she cut to turn it into a crop top, and the skinny ripped jeans that are Melanie’s, the chunky black belt holding them is Basira’s and the fluffy red jumper poking out of his backpack is Daisy’s. He would like something from the team too… would it be too weird to ask?

The others keep coming in and both Sasha and Tim do a double take when they spot him. Melanie, who came with Tim, commented that the jeans surprisingly suit him quite well. Basira narrowed her eyes at him upon recognizing the belt, but she was smiling, so it’s no big deal.

Gerry and Georgie surprisingly drop by; she sadly didn’t bring The Admiral along.

“You didn’t have to come” he tells Georgie as they hug.

“I wanted to” she insists.

Elias eventually comes down the stairs, but he is not alone. Behind him comes Peter Lukas himself with his two nieces, the captain is carrying a duffel bag, while Natty is carrying a handbag and Micah is carrying a satchel bag.

“I wish you the best of luck” Peter says, before turning to his nephew. “It’s time, son.”

Martin has always hated being called that, but he never minds when it’s Peter who does it, so he nods. He turns to his friends, Sasha gives him one last hug, followed by Tim who does the same, and when it comes to Jon, he takes his hand, closing it around something, before leaning in.

“You can give it back when you come back for your jacket” he whispers, so close to his ear he can feel the warmth of his breath. Jon has to remind his lungs that they’re supposed to be breathing.

“We will be rooting for you!” Micah promises, fist bumping the air as Martin joins her in the stairs.

“I hope you all have a safe journey” Natty says.

“I’ll call you when we get to the manor, Elias”, Peter tells him as if they were alone in the room, the man in the suit only nods at him.

Martin gives them one last sad smile that Jon reciprocates, before disappearing up the stairs.

Once the family leaves, Daisy notices that Jon’s arm is still extended and his hand curled into a fist, he seems to notice too, because he opens his hand and a delicate engraved gold medallion glints in the light coming from the small windows that line the top of one of the walls of the archives. Behind him Georgie gasps, covering her mouth when he stares at the medallion, letting dangle by the chain in front of him as if it held the answers to the universe.

“I can _feel_ your confusion, Stoker” Melanie jokes, but Jon doesn’t turn to look at her.

“You don’t _know_ what that means in our world” Gerry sombrely declares.

“No, I don’t, but I would like to. People, I have a degree in Anthropology, culture is my thing! So, what does it mean?”

Jon notices Elias opening his mouth to speak, so he quickly cuts him off.

“Nothing that matters if I don’t come back”, he says, tone grim.

“…it’s a promise of protection” Elias explains, because he loves hearing his own voice apparently, “the kind of protection only the royal family of our world can give, a sort of _I will keep you safe_ ”, for a moment, just a single moment, the look on Elias’ face is not his usual _you’re but a peasant and I’m better than you in every aspect_ expression, but rather something else, it’s a softness that doesn’t belong on the eyes of a man of his cruelty.

That’s when Jon notices that Elias is wearing a golden medallion, not unlike the one he is holding. The older man nods in his direction, apparently noticing that he noticed.

“Elias, please, shut the fuck up”.

“Excuse me?” he retorts, and the shock on his face is enough to send them all into a fit of laughter, Jon even allows himself a little chuckle as he places the medallion around his neck. “Sasha, I understand this is a high-stress situation, but please get a hold of yourself! This is the institute, we aren’t effing and jeffing like a common street harlot, we have decorum!”

“Nah, she is right, fuck you, Elias” Melanie agrees. “You’re always dragging the rest of us down.”

“Wait, wait, this may be the last time we are together!” Tim exclaims, “so, with your permission, Elias, there is something I need to get out of my chest, may I?”

“I suppose you may, yes.”

The next thing Elias knows is that pain is blooming on his face, so he touches his cheekbone, where Tim’s fist has struck him.

“Hell yeah give it to him, Tim!” Melanie yells encouragingly.

“I should have thought you will resort to this kind of senseless violence”, Elias retorts, straightening himself. “Now, if you’re all done acting like children, I believe there’s another place in which you need to be.”

* * *

The manor is quieter than usual, given that all the staff has been sent home early. There’s a possibility that tomorrow at midnight the world will change in a horrible yet indescribable way, so Odeta Lukas has to take the necessary precautions if she wants her family to come back unscathed from this terrible change that may or may not happen.

She had called everyone, and that everyone actually means her grandchildren, her son and her brother in law. There’s a second branch of the Lukas family, her late husband’s cousins that they only see at funerals, but not all of them use the surname and it’s not like she is close enough to them to tell to come here. She doesn’t care much for them, because all they did for her was take in both Aaron and Judith when they realised they weren’t fit to serve and instead of correcting them so they could come back to the manor where they belong, they had the nerve to send them off to boarding school!

The front opens, shaking her out of her thoughts.

“Odeta?” someone calls her name, “Odeta, are you here?”

Despite how much her husband August believed in self-kin, there was one person he adored and admired, his older brother Nathaniel. So, when August left them she promised herself that she wouldn’t allow for Nathaniel to get lost into the fog the same way her husband did.

“I’m here, Nathaniel” she calls from the kitchen. She places the tray she had been preparing in the oven and closes the door.

“Never thought I would see the day in which Odeta Lukas herself would cook” he teases, the mischief in his tone does not reach his eyes, but it doesn’t surprise her, he has not been the same since his wife died. He looks around, “and Martin and the girls?”

“Peter is bringing them here” she assures him, “he needed to go see Elias but they should be here soon.”

Just like Martin is her favourite (and she is not ashamed to admit her favouritism, it’s not like the girls are around that much), Nathaniel has a soft spot for the twins, she knows that his late wife did wanted to give Nathaniel a child, a daughter, but she could never have any kids.

“Good, what are you cooking?”

“Some _tara paine_ bread, it’s been a while since I last baked it, hey, do you think you could light up the fireplace? It’s cold outside.”

“It’s always cold here, but yeah, sure.”

Peter arrives with the kids shortly after, and Odeta busies herself preparing some coffee and tea. When she gets to the living room with the tray, there’s laughter and it makes her smile. She can tell by the heavy footsteps that Peter is in a nearby hallway, pacing around like a caged lion. Usually his steps are silent, like everyone else’s, but he doesn’t bother to hide his presence in the manor. _He is probably worried about Elias_ , unlike most people her age, she doesn’t care who her son (or her grandson for that matter) falls in love with, but she does think that Peter could have gotten himself a better man. Luckily, Elias has to stay in the institute, because that’s where he is stronger. That’s also good because Odeta just _can’t_ stand him.

Nathaniel is sitting in one of the single seats, smoking a cigar while Natty and Micah chat in one of the couches; Martin is in the window seat, staring at the rain falling outside. She can’t help but notice he looks a little pale, and that he is toying with one the earrings he is wearing, those that were gifted to him by that young man he is so smitten with. Odeta wonders why Martin did not invite him to stay here until this is over; if they can protect Elias just because Peter loves him then they surely can protect Jonathan just because Martin loves him too. _Ah, Martin did mention he is a servant of The Mother of Puppets_ , _perhaps he has his own domain to shelter himself in?_ , she muses as she serves a cup of tea for Natty and then one for Micah.

“Martin, lad, are you okay? You’re looking a little pale” Nathaniel comments.

“Uh, yeah, I guess I’m just tired, Uncle Nat.”

“He is worried about his boyfriend” Micah chimes in, “he is so brave, going off to fight the Circus like that”.

“He is _not_ my boyfriend” Martin complains automatically, but he sounds so tired, like those simple words are exhausting to say.

Odeta freezes and her eyes find Nathaniel’s across the table, his eyes are hard as always but there’s a spark of recognition in them. Something is wrong here. She leaves the cups and crosses the room to where Martin is sitting; at first she thought that the grey light of the outside was making him look paler but once she is closer she can see that it is not the case, Martin looks very sick. So she presses a hand to his forehead and finds that he is very, very warm.

On the other room, Peter has stopped his pacing and is now standing at the entrance of the living room.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think he may be running a fever” she answers without turning and gives Martin a severe look when he opens his mouth no doubt to contradict her, “yes, yes you’re” she says, “let’s get you to bed, _dragule_ , you need to rest, come on.” Martin sighs and, too tired to do anything else, allows for his grandmother to tug him by the sleeve to his room.

The bedrooms in the manor are huge, each one with an in-suite bathroom, a fancy desk, a couch, a king size bed and a walk-in wardrobe, Martin’s room also happens to have a balcony that overlooks the seashore. This room alone is bigger than the studio apartment that Nathaniel pays for Martin in London, but Odeta doesn’t need to know that.

“I think I’m just going to take a nap, Nana.”

“I will wake you up for supper then, do you want me to close the curtains?” he shakes his head _no_ , “Alright, rest up, I don’t want my favourite grandson sick” she kisses his forehead and leaves, closing the wooden door behind her as she does.

He stares at it for a few moments, a part of him says that he shouldn’t feel happy when Odeta calls him her favourite, because that’s not fair to Natty and Micah, but another, more selfish part of him rejoices. Martin has never been anyone’s favourite anything before. Well… as long as his cousins don’t know he guesses it is fine.

After he had taken off his hoodie and his trousers, he gets into bed and Odeta must be right, he must be running a fever, the usually very cold sheets feel really good against his heated up skin. He takes his phone and connects the earphones, deciding to listen to some music while sleep comes creeping in.

_“You must think that I’m stupid, you must think that I’m a fool, you must think that I’m new to this, but I have seen this all before. I’m never gonna let you close to me, even though you mean the most to me, ‘cause every time I open up, it hurts. So I’m never gonna get too close to you, even when I mean the most to you, in case you go and leave me in the dirt… I’m too good at goodbyes…”_

His eyes start to feel heavy, but he doesn’t want to sleep, not when he realises that all that his mind is able to conjure is an image of the sad smile Jon gave him when he left the archives or of Jon’s… well…

When you’re an avatar, you get glowing eyes, which Martin has always thought is the coolest thing you can get, even if sometimes you don’t get to see in the dark despite the glow (or so he had been told by Peter, whose grey eyes shine an eerie white). He had learnt that the glow doesn’t always match your natural eye colour, Jon has chocolate brown eyes, but he saw them shining a lovely shade of purple that time in the tunnels (he has since tried time and time again to capture the beauty of such thing in a poem and failed miserably), he had seen a dangerous yellow tint on Daisy’s and he has also seen an unnaturally green sparkle in Sasha’s otherwise hazel ones a couple of times when she uses what Tim has labelled as her “ _Archivist powers”_.

When he finally falls asleep, all he sees is Jon’s eyes, glowing and staring back at him from the darkness, as if guarding his dreams.

* * *

_“So say goodbye and hit the road, pack it up and disappear, you better have some place to go, ‘cause you can’t come back around here, good goodbye, good goodbye, good goodbye…”_

They’ve been travelling for hours now, leave it to Elias, stingy bastard that he is, to arrange their travel and accommodations, no wonder their already long trip to Great Yarmouth has been made even longer.

Jon looks out of the window of the train, sitting next to Daisy, who is shuffling a deck of cards. He had just got Gerry’s message, the goth has arrived at Oxford, at Hill Top Road under the guise of _keeping Annabelle company_ , he is not sure if his sister will believe it. In the seat behind him he can faintly hear Basira and Sasha having a very passionate conversation about books they had both read. His earphones have music playing, so he doesn’t notices Tim changing seats, until he sits directly across from him, he then takes one of his earphones off to see what he wants.

“How are we doing?” he asks with that friendly smile of his ever present on his face, Jon can’t help but mirror the gesture.

“As good as we can manage all things considered, what about you, got tired of the book club talk?”

“I took a nap” he admits, shrugging.

“Why are you wearing a glove?” Daisy interrupts, frowning slightly. “It’s August, Stoker.”

Jon frowns; he has noticed Tim wearing that brown leather glove in his right hand since he got to institute that morning and prior to that he had been wearing bandages, he had said he didn’t wanted to talk about what happened so nobody pressured him to.

“I just thought it would look cool” he shrugs again, and the words taste bitter to Jon, but he can also taste a tinge of sweetness that makes him frown… whatever, they have more important matters in their hands than Tim’s weird fashion choices.

“Yeah, if you were wearing them on both hands” Daisy scoffs, “anyways, I was going to teach Jon to play poker, you want to join?”

“Sure, but first…” he takes one of Jon’s hands and ties one of his woven pride bracelets around his bony wrist, smiling all the while, “not really fair that you have things from the others but not from me, don’t you think?”

* * *

**[Text conversation between Tim Stoker and Melanie King, Friday, 5:47 pm]**

**Tim:** Melanie!

 **Tim:** MELANIE HELP

 **Melanie:** Are you alright?

 **Tim:** No!!

 **Melanie:** What’s wrong?

 **Tim:** Well, now that I am typing it out it sounds a bit silly but we arrived at the B&B and Elias booked us two rooms and I’m sharing with Sasha.

 **Melanie:** and? What? There’s only one bed or something?

 **Tim:** …

 **Melanie:** oh, my god.

 **Melanie:** Are you really texting me about this, Stoker? You had like no problem sleeping in the same bed as me when you stayed at my flat.

 **Tim:** that’s different! You’re my friend! And you know how I feel about her.

 **Melanie:** I am and I do, you were really passionate about it when I asked. What did she say about the bed-sharing?

 **Tim:** she was kind of awkward about it, but like, in a cute way? She was saying that we are adults and we can totally share the bed and all that, but she was blushing and it was very adorable.

 **Melanie:** oh, my god, Tim, that’s straight out of a fanfic! Be careful, though, you’re entering in the Martin-level of pining.

 **Tim:** Melanie King, you take that back

 **Melanie:** never. What are you doing now?

 **Tim:** I’m taking a walk around the place, Sasha stayed in the room. I mean, Jon probably has it worse; he is sharing with Daisy and Basira. It’s just that this will make things… more awkward.

 **Melanie:** Explain.

 **Tim:** you know I may not be coming back home, Mellie.

 **Melanie:** you better do!

 **Tim:** is not certain. So I thought I could… tell Sasha how I feel about her? I mean, if I don’t make it, I don’t want to do so without telling Sasha that I love her.

 **Melanie:** That’s very sweet, Tim. I say go for it.

* * *

The bed and breakfast they’re staying in has a quiet roof, from where you can see the lights of the city. That’s where Daisy is right now, she had left the room for a little alone time. Basira had gone to sleep early on the twin bed, while she would have to share the king size one with Jon. As much as she appreciates Basira, she tosses and turns _a lot_ in her sleep and Daisy happens to be a light sleeper, so sharing a bed with the spider it is, which won’t be much of a deal, Jon just kind of curls into a ball like a cat and snores away.

“Here you are.”

Speaking of the Devil… she turns to look at her friend, because yes, what they have is a friendship, even if it’s a strange one. He smiles at her and holds up an unopened bottle of whiskey, cocking an eyebrow. She snorts and gestures for him to join her where she is sitting on a bench. It’s almost funny to think that if it wasn’t for the fact that Jon is going tomorrow night, she wouldn’t go either.

Jon uncaps the whiskey bottle and passes it to her, who takes a sip at first and then the equivalent to a shot, it burns her throat a bit, but she will get used to it, she always does. They can stay in comfortable silence for a long time. As she passes the bottle back to Jon, she reminisces of how they met…

_Jon had been a fucking pest._

_Back then, Daisy didn’t know his name, let alone that he was an avatar. She was already a Sectioned officer and had been finishing up some case about those bloody vampires that she despised so much, walking through the streets at night back to the precinct, a few streets away, she stopped to light a cigarette, she didn’t smoked often, but sometimes you just needed a little nicotine to wrap up the case. Problem was, her lighter refused to cooperate. As she tried to get it to work, something on the back of her mind told her she wasn’t alone. She stopped trying to get the lighter to work._

_“Detective Alice Tonner?”, someone asked behind her._

_“Daisy”, she automatically corrected as she turned, finding herself in front of a man she did not recognize. He was way shorter than she was, but then again, Daisy has always been a tall woman. He was clad in a black leather jacket covered by pins and patches that covered a red flannel and he also had fine eyeliner on his eyelids and a spiked choker around his neck. “Do I know you?”_

_The answer was already there, no, they didn’t know each other, otherwise he would know to call her Daisy instead of saying her full name, and she would surely recognize a man in such eccentric outfit._

_“No, I’m afraid we do not” he smiled then he extended his arms towards her, holding a gold-plated lighter with a web pattern on it, “need a light?”_

_She nodded and allowed him to light her cigarette. After the first drag, the wind picked up, blowing away her smoke and carrying a certain scent with it. As a hunter, her patron enabled her with the curious ability to differentiate between avatars and humans, because it was like if avatars wore very strong perfumes that she picked up immediately. Now her brain was going_ monster, monster, monster, monster, _but that made her confused, she could also sense when someone was a threat to her and this guy did not seem to be one. She eyed him up and down._

_“What are you?” she asked, bluntly, no time for formality. She needed to know if this was an ally (she knew there were other sectioned officers who were like her) or if the thing in front her was prey._

_The man just smiled._

_“Daisy?” someone asked behind her, when she turned, she found Basira. “Who are you talking to?”_

_As expected, she found herself alone in the street save for her partner._

_After that little encounter, she would find Jon_ everywhere _. Jon would later admit that they were all coincidences, and that he was planning to try and not bother her after their first meeting because, even if he was a bit ashamed to admit it, he didn’t want to get on her bad side. Okay, she had thought, so he is dumb enough to seek me out, but not too stupid as to cross me. She wanted to leave it at that, but Daisy grew curious, who was this man? Why did he smell like a monster? If he was a monster, then why didn’t he feel like a threat? What kind of monster was he? The precinct did have some categories for the “monsters” but this knowledge was nowhere near what she learned when Jon taught her about Smirke’s list. Daisy knew Basira was curious too, she had seen the man on a couple of the times in which she had run into him._

_One day, she and Basira were in their favourite coffee shop on downtown London when she spotted Jon at one of the tables, sitting with a giggling young lady that looked a bit too young to be having coffee with him. She approached them and Jon smiled at her and invited she and Basira (who had come behind her) to sit with them. She declined and asked him if the girl was his girlfriend, she made a disgusted face._

_Jon still teases her about it, but how was she supposed to know the girl was his sister, huh?_

_“So, what patron do you serve?” Annabelle asked and Daisy looked at her like she didn’t understand and she truly didn’t._

_“What?”_

_Then the siblings shared a look and Jon hurried to scribble his number on a paper napkin and handed it to her._

_“I do believe we can help each other, Detective; if you ever feel like having some answers, do call me”._

_She thought that was the end of it, that she wasn’t going to call him, but then she and Basira were assigned on a missing person’s case, a young girl, age sixteen, who supposedly had run away from home, she, of course, didn’t bought it, why would it be a Section 31 otherwise? They were running out of leads and out of time. So she called Jon, and within an hour he was able not only to give her some leads, but also an address, he urged her not to go alone and she didn’t listen._

_That night she had her second run in with Breekon and Hope and that damned coffin of theirs._

_That night Jonathan Sims saved her life._

_Just like an archivist is compelled to finish a statement or a hunter is compelled to_ chase _, Breekon and Hope seem to be compelled to make deliveries when they’re needed, so, anticlimactic as it may sound, all it needed was for a delivery to be placed and she was saved from the same fate as her ex-partner Masters._

_“…you saved me…” she had told him as she waited for Basira to arrive, the missing girl was safe, sleeping in the back of the patrol car as she shared a cigarette with the man in front her. “You saved me and I don’t even know your name.”_

_It felt… wrong not to know such a basic detail, had she never asked? No, she hadn’t, but she felt like she should know it now, ask this man, who was clearly not like the monsters she had chased and killed. He was different._

_“I’m Jonathan Sims, but, please, call me Jon, everyone does.”_

Back in present day, in the cold roof of the B&B, she looked at Jon. It turned out that their friendship was indeed beneficial to them both; Jon has a talent for getting into trouble and turning himself into a damsel in distress. A bodyguard wasn’t exactly what Jon was looking for when they meet, he is curious by nature and, as he told her, he had never met a hunter before and was curious about them. She had to admit that she thought that it was a stupid idea to risk oneself for information, but then again, this is _Jon_ who we are talking about, he doesn’t think things through, he is impulsive, even if he has somehow managed to convince himself otherwise. She on the other hand, could close cases faster and become more efficient because she had the information she needed and both she and Basira had to admit that it was nice to have more people other than just each other to talk to and to trust.

“Jon?” she asks softly, as he drinks more from the bottle. “You never told me what is that you made those two deliver the night you saved me.”

“You never asked” he shrugs, and then stills when she rests her head on his shoulder, which is a bit awkward giving the height difference, “if you must know, I made them deliver the Web table that belonged to my father to the institute, by that time the Not-Them was already trapped within it and I figured it would be safer in a place that knew how to handle such an object. I wasn’t expecting it to _break_ , I still believe Elias had something to do with it”, she doesn’t answer, but then looks at him through her eyelashes. He notices. “What, Tonner?”

“Sing for me?”

“I don’t-” she bats her eyelashes playfully, making him sigh tiredly. “Fine, which song do you want?”

“Blood and whiskey” she decides after a few moments of thoughtful silence.

Jon clears his throat, before starting to hum to get in tune with the song, and, once he seems satisfied, he starts to sing a soft, almost sad, ballad.

“ _Oh, my loves, raise a glass for those we leave behind. We may end up dead with a bullet in head, but if we’re not returning from this damn fool quest, then tonight let’s drown our sorrows down with whiskey_ ” Daisy starts to hum along, taking his hand and interlocking their fingers. “ _Annabelle, you’re my stars, Martin, you’re my night. And I know we’ve got to ride at the dawn’s first light, and I ain’t saying this preacher man crusade ain’t right, but first let’s fuel a few more sins with whiskey…_ ”

* * *

This isn’t going the way Tim had planned.

Right now he and Sasha are in bed, holding each other close under the covers, she freshly changed into her pyjamas and with her hair wet from her recent shower and he still dressed in a tight fitting long-sleeved shirt and jeans. They’re just… talking. He had planned to give her a confession, maybe one last kiss before tomorrow, but what would be the point? He feels comfortable like this, why mess it up with a rushed confession that will probably ring untrue given the circumstances?

No, there’s no need for that, not when he is allowed to hold her like this, so close he can feel her warmth and smell her perfume. This is enough. He tucks a stray lock of her behind her ear and smiles, just as his hand comes up to cup her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. She looks like she needs to be kissed right then and there, but he doesn’t follow up with that. He takes his hands away and gives her a sad smile instead, and then he thinks better of it and presses his lips to her forehead. She hums in approval and snuggles closer to him.

Sasha, on the hand, doesn’t think she can label this decision as a mistake, not when she is lying with her head against Tim’s chest, hearing the soft beating of his heart as he tells her about what he is planning to do after they stop The Unknowing. She had also planned for this conversation to be different, maybe admit that she has been thinking a lot about him lately, and that she has been thinking about them together. Maybe even admit that she has feelings for him, that they blossomed slowly, but they’re there and they’re confusing, and overwhelming, and wonderful.

“So, that’s your plan?” she asks softly, trying to distract herself from such thoughts “just blow up the clown and kayak into the sunset?”

“I could take you with me, if you want, the place is lovely… it has a waterfall and a hill from where you can watch the sunset, did I never mention it to you?”

“No, tell me more about it”, she prompts, nuzzling his collarbone as he pulls the blanket to cover her shoulder.

* * *

Annabelle wakes up with a gasp, her heart beating hard against her ribcage as if it would burst and her clothes are damp with sweat. She rubs at her eyes with one hand and curses. She doesn’t remember the nightmare she was having and that’s maybe for the best, but she does have the impression that it had to do with her brother. She just knows she was probably dreaming about Jon.

She takes a few deep breaths, hand over her eyes as she tries to calm herself, listening to the rain pounding over the roof. When her eyes open again, she realises where she is, because the ceiling above her head now does not match the ceiling she fell asleep under. She had fallen sleep in the living room while texting with Helen and the boys around eleven or so, but now she is lying in bed in the room that her brother commissioned to be rebuilt just as it was when they were kids.

Sitting abruptly, she takes a look around, she is tucked in bed, a bed that once had frilly pink blankets and now has an impersonal black bedspread that she doesn’t likes, the lights are off, but she can see the lamplights through the drawn curtains that had been tied the same way Raymond used to when she was a little girl afraid of the dark. Problem is she doesn’t recall doing such thing now.

The lights outside go out and she purses her lips, realising this is probably a blackout. She gets out of bed, and walks to the door, after fully becoming, she could find her way around in the dark the same way Jon does and the same way Raymond once could, but such ability is not necessary here, she could go through the entire house with her eyes closed. Out of habit, she places a hand against the soft and smooth wall and starts to walk.

The storm outside seems to intensify, with thunder rolling in the distance and lighting illuminating the place through the curtains every once in a while. She smiles, she loves thunderstorms because they remind her of Mike and his love for them, after all, there’s a reason her boyfriend is known as _The Lightning Bolt_ , well, there also _other_ reasons, but those she can’t exactly disclose to the public, she thinks with a smug smile.

She gets downstairs, where the lighting outside is bright enough that she notices her phone is still on the coffee table, next to where Emma, Mary and Georgie Jr. seem to be taking a nap, contrary to popular belief, tarantulas do sleep, just not in the same ways as humans do, they don’t lie down or close their eyes. The young woman has actually seen her brother’s tarantulas sleeping several times, but she is not sure she had ever seen any of them sleeping like that…, shrugging she goes into the kitchen to have a glass of water.

When she comes back, Georgie and Emma haven’t moved, which is strange considering that they usually wake up shortly after someone walks in on them sleeping, as she sits on the couch, she frowns at them, suddenly remembering something from a long time ago…

_It had been during her years on Hill Top Road; in that occasion Raymond had taken them to the backyard for lessons while the others fulfilled their cleaning duties, saying the sunny spring day should not be wasted by staying inside. She was sitting in the grass in one of those pretty dresses she adored wearing while holding one of her beloved dolls, her brother was sitting next to her with a book about spiders in his hands, both she and Jon had been marked by The Mother in ways that left them scared of arachnids, but Raymond had taken on the task of showing them that spiders weren’t bad at all. Maybe that’s the way he liked to be remembered, as the loving father and the patient teacher._

_She remembers looking over at Jon, who was flipping through the pages, quickly turning them every time he saw a spider with long spindly legs, lingering instead on pages that depicted big and hairy spiders that reminded Annabelle too much of the monster she encountered in that chip shop in Norfolk before Raymond found her._

_Raymond came out of the house, dressed in his usual attire that made him look like he was stuck in the sixties (a lot of people probably found that weird, but Anna has always loved that vintage aesthetic and she knows Jon loves dressing like he is going to a Sex Pistols live show) and seemingly finished with assigning tasks to the other children to keep them occupied. The other kids didn’t go to school but if they were interested Raymond would happily lend them books or even allow them to listen while he gave lessons to his children._

_But this lesson was special._

_“Alright, shall we start?” he said once he had sat in front them on the grass. She nodded, Jon, on his part, had barely looked up from his book his eyes fixed on a page. “May I have that book, Jon?” his tone didn’t sound like he was scolding him, but the boy complied, seeming embarrassed. “Okay, do you two know why did I show you this book in particular?” he asked, holding said book up so they both could see the pictures Jon was looking at, Annabelle raised her hand, “yes, princess?”_

_“So we can pick our spider of choice!” she answered and smiled when Raymond nodded in approval._

_He had told them about that before, sometimes those who were like them, that served The Mother, picked a spider that they particularly liked or felt a connection to; he sadly didn’t live enough to tell them why he picked daddy long leg spiders as his._

_“That’s right, Anna, it’s important to pick a spider, but it’s also important to know that these spiders that we pick are an extension of ourselves, that’s why it’s important to make sure we stay healthy, make sure to take care of ourselves, like by sleeping enough” he looked at Jon, who often stayed past his bedtime reading his books, he blushed, “or by not eating so much candy after supper” here he looked at her and she giggled, was it really her fault if Amanda left the cookie jar unattended and within reach?_

_Raymond then lifted a hand showing them a small spider lying in his palm, before stretching his arm forwards, Anna cupped her little hands to allow her father’s spider to crawl onto them. She actually liked the smaller spiders more, they were just so cute!_

_“If I get sad will my spiders be sad too, Daddy?” she asked, making him chuckle._

_“Yes, Anna, they feel how we feel.”_

_“It’s the same when we are hungry or tired or bored?” Jon asked this time, considering with a slight frown in his features as he watched the spider freely crawling in his sister’s palms. “And how do I know if I pick the right spider, Dad?”_

_“There are no rights or wrongs here, son; your spiders will pick you as much as you will pick them” he finalised, before retrieving his spider from Anna’s hands. “Now, who wants to play soccer?” he suggested, smiling, “I do believe we have a score to settle.”_

In present day, Annabelle blinks, Jon’s spider choice seemed not only fitting but logical, he decided on his a while after they had that conversation. Tarantulas, after all, are big spiders who can defend themselves, not only that, but they are known for sometimes eating other spiders, which makes sense for Jon if you have the context of his encounter with Mr. Spider. Anna herself had trouble picking hers, but she finally did when she met a certain someone.

Her eyes land on the mantelpiece she commissioned once the house was ready to be decorated, it’s a taxidermy piece with four spiders displayed in a glass case, each one with a name underneath, the biggest one being one of those tarantulas Jon adores, a daddy long legs in Raymond’s honour and two black widows, inky black and with their respective hourglass shaped red markings. Only one of those has her name under it.

She quickly taps the coffee table twice with a fingertip, but the spiders don’t stir. Okay, now _that_ is worrying, they should have picked up the vibrations, she tries again, but nothing. Maybe Jon is sleeping? Except Annabelle has never seen them sleeping at the same time Jon does. She tries brushing a finger against one of Emma’s hairy legs, but nothing, the same result with Georgie. Oh, god, what is happening? She takes a deep breath and tries again, this time slightly poking Emma’s abdomen. Tarantulas don’t play dead.

_“…it’s also important to know that these spiders that we pick are an extension of ourselves…”_ , repeats her father’s voice in her mind.

Tarantulas don’t play dead.

_“…they feel how we feel.”_

“Why aren’t they moving?” she whispers to no one in particular, panic overtaking her. She feels a shiver run down her spine.

Tarantulas don’t play dead.

On the coffee table, her phone starts to ring; again the tarantulas don’t seem to notice. She can see the screen lighting up, it’s Georgie, but Annabelle doesn’t think she can muster the strength to answer the phone right now.

Someone softly calls her name, and when she turns she finds Gerry in the staircase. Annabelle is not stupid; she knows exactly why Gerry showed up at her doorstep the afternoon in which Jon was supposed to leave for Great Yarmouth. She loves her brother, she truly does, but she also hates when he acts like they’re still kids and he has to take of her like she is five or something. She could do just fine without a bloody _babysitter_ ; she is a grown woman, after all.

“You’re still here?” they ask. “Staying awake won’t make time go faster, you now? I would say it’s quite the opposite in fact”.

“I- I just came down, actually” she manages to say, surprised.

“Ah, I didn’t hear you go upstairs” they frown, “hey, are you alright?”

“I don’t know but, uh, Jon’s spiders are doing something weird, I think.”

“What?” they repeat, before looking at the coffee table, their eyes open wide and their face pales slightly. “Oh, that’s- that’s not good.”

The phone keeps ringing, so Gerry approaches the coffee table and answers it.

“Yes? Yeah, hey, Georgie, Annabelle is here with me, what’s wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter was bit heavy and long, but I hope you all enjoyed it, because we only have two more chapters left before we finish the first part of the series! Yes, folks, you read that right, this is now a series, I’m not done with this AU just yet! (As you probably noticed I had added one more chapter to the chapter count, but most is already written so this is, hopefully, the last time the chapter count will change).  
> Me as I’m writing: this is getting too sad, what should I do? Ah, I know, let’s bully Elias for a bit to brighten up the mood :)  
> As you guys can probably guess, I love writing Spider-Dad!Raymond a little too much. I’m just giving Jon and Annabelle the love and care they both deserve! And I also happen to like writing Melanie/Tim friendship; I don’t have excuses other than the fact that everyone should have a friend. And I do hope the way I have chosen to explain why Daisy and Jon are friends is believable and in character, their friendship is important to me.  
> Quick note, the word Odeta uses to refer to Martin _dragule_ , means dear in Romanian.


	12. After the Dance is over, come Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team deals with the aftermath of The Unknowing; Tim has something to tell everyone. Gerry takes a trip down Memory Lane. Martin worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Twin size mattress (The Front Bottoms)

Georgie hasn’t been able to feel fear in years, so she isn’t surprised when she wakes up in the middle of the night because The Admiral jumped into her lap, yowling because he wants food, or that’s what she thinks he wants at least. Her living room is only illuminated by the faint glow of the television but it’s enough that she can see the Admiral and the outline of some of the furniture. She also feels Melanie’s head resting on her shoulder more than she sees it, and she feels her when she stirs, reaching over to scratch the still protesting cat on her lap.

“What’s wrong with our boy? It’s too early for him to be- Oh, my god” Melanie straightens quickly, and then groans in pain as she grips the side of her neck, muttering a curse. Georgie can’t help but giggle, yeah, sure, sleeping with your head on your girlfriend’s shoulder may sound romantic but waking up with a stiff neck it’s not. “Stop laughing, Georgie, _look_ _at the spiders_ ”.

So she looks over and sees two tarantulas on her coffee table. These three in particular are Melanie and Basira, if she recalls correctly what Jon told them when he dropped them off, it’s not like she can distinguish them from each other, she could when it was just Emma and Mary but not now that there are seven of them. She frowns; they don’t look very good… 

She is not the only one who notices, The Admiral jumps onto the table and resumes what she calls his “angry meowing”. Georgie frowns, usually when her cat gets like this the tarantulas get away from him, not liking his attitude, she supposes, but right now they’re very, very still, are they sleeping? Also, why are they lying in such a weird position?

The two of them stare at the sleeping arachnids on the table, Georgie has never seen them do that, and she has known most of the spiders since they were hatchlings. She stopped feeling fear before she met Jon, so she was never put off by his little girls, and despite what others may think, Jon is _not_ the weirdest guy Georgie has dated. She even thought that it was sort of… cute how much he cared about his spiders, she has even caught him more than once cooing at them like he does with The Admiral, but he will deny it if asked.

A sharp knock on the door grabs their attention. Georgie sighs and gets up to answer, again being a fearless person means that worry, fear, anxiety and surprise are things that she doesn’t feel anymore. So, when she opens the door and Elias Bouchard himself is waiting on the other side, the only reaction she has is to cock an eyebrow.

“Georgina Barker?”, he asks, politely and almost business-like.

“Yes, and you’re Elias Bouchard” she says, making him smile.

“I see that my reputation precedes me, may I come in?”

“How about you do not?” Melanie snaps behind her girlfriend, approaching slowly, until she is right next to her. “What do you want?”

“I just thought that I would drop by to let you know how the ritual went. Now, may I come in?” Begrudgingly, Georgie does let him in, for a few moments nobody says anything, and she is about to ask what is this about when she notices that Elias’ eyes are glowing faintly, but not in the way she supposes they would if it was only because of the darkness of the room. “Sasha and Jon are the worst ones…” he starts, “Sasha is in the resuscitation room and they’re taking Jon into the operating theatre”, his tone is clinical, detached, as if he is just talking about literally anything else.

“I assume you haven’t called his sister?” Georgie asks, crossing her arms. Melanie had mentioned that, coincidentally, Sasha’s father is away on a holiday with his girlfriend. 

“Well, I’m afraid I do not have her phone number, but if you want, since I need to go see my archivist, I could give you all a ride.”

Melanie frowns, she may be closer to Tim than she is to Sasha, but that doesn’t mean she will just stand here, hearing Elias talk about Sasha like she is his property or something, she opens her mouth to argue but her girlfriend talks first.

“Alright” she turns to stare at the tarantulas at the table, the little critters still look bad and they hadn’t moved. “I will call Annabelle then” she declares, firm and gentle, from the corner of her eyes, she can tell that it seems to calm her girlfriend a bit, so she nods before fully turning to Melanie. “Can you bring me the empty white shoe box from my bedroom? I think it’s inside the wardrobe. Let’s get our jackets.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything less from the _fearless one_ ”, he says it as if it’s supposed to mean something to her, and he seems pleased but she just frowns at him.

It’s slower than she would want it to be, but she manages to get ready and to get them into Elias’ car. Melanie sits in the backseat behind Elias, looking like she is ready to slit a knife across his throat, while she prefers put her earphones in, if Elias is half of what she has heard from her girlfriend and Jon then she would rather not talk to him. She is sitting in the passenger with the box she requested for Melanie to find in her lap, it ends up temporarily containing the tarantulas, it just feels _wrong_ to leave them in the flat all alone. She suspects they will get better once they’re close to Jon again.

Her mind wanders to question how Gerry is doing all the way down in Oxford. She knows how worried they are, Gerry and Jon go way back, they’re childhood friends even. Georgie has heard them more than once joking that they were each other’s first friend, which is expected if you know of Gerry’s mother reputation, but doesn’t really match what she has heard about Raymond Fielding, Jon has always had nothing but praise for the man who raised him.

They get to the Queen Mary Hospital sooner rather than later.

The first thing Georgie notices upon finding their friends waiting for them outside is that they all look like the end of Die Hard. Luckily, it seems they’re already patched up. Melanie runs towards them and wraps her arms around Tim, who barely manages to place an arm around her shoulders. Not a good sign.

“Tim?” she hears her ask as she gets near, shoebox still in her hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Sasha…” he says, choked up, as if he is barely containing his tears. “They- They’re trying to resuscitate her… but, but-”

“What room is she in?” Elias interrogates, sensible and tactful as always, Basira manages to tell him when Tim can only stutter. He nods and starts walking, before stopping and looking over his shoulder. “I called Peter; he will bring Martin in the morning.”

With that last bit of information, he finally enters the hospital and leaves them.

* * *

Odeta quickly walks down the hallway with Peter and Nathaniel in tow, her old joints protesting as she does so. It’s strange, she hasn’t felt this level of weak in a long time, and then she realizes why. She hasn’t feed the patron this week. It’s a peculiar way of doing so; she has to admit, feeding The Forsaken with her very own loneliness. She is used to it, to the empty house, to the echoing hallways, the quiet table at dinner time, but every Friday morning the loneliness mutates into something else… _anticipation_ , because she knows that Saturday morning she won’t be lonely anymore, that’s why she chooses that moment to go below the house and serve, she chooses the time right before Martin shows up.

There is no time to dwell on her old body’s pains, not today. Not when she needs to be strong for her grandson, she needs to be the one to tell him.

What happened last night in Great Yarmouth, it’s all over the news in England, probably of all the broadcasts in the rest of the United Kingdom as well. Elias had called Peter late last night as well, just a couple hours ago, so he could hear all about it before anyone else. 

As she ponders how should she phrase the news she is about to deliver, she catches something out of the corner of her eye.

“Is either of you doing that?” she asks, stopping abruptly.

“Is either of us doing wha-?” Nathaniel cuts himself, noticing as well, “no, I’m not doing that, Peter?” she doesn’t turns, but she assumes her son shakes his head or something because he adds: “I see.”

For a few seconds, the three of them just stare at the mist that it’s not thick enough to be called a fog and it’s barely a centimetre or two over the carpeted wooden floors. Odeta follows with her eyes the trail it makes, leading to one of the bedrooms with the lights on, Martin’s bedroom. The old matriarch feels like she could jump with joy, if such action wasn’t so _vulgar_. Instead, she hurries towards the bedroom, not running, but not walking either.

She knew it, she knew it, _she knew it_! Aaron may have been a failure, a disgrace to the family, to her he is but an apple rotten to the core, but Martin… oh, her dear Martin is the apple of her eye, her _micul print_ , her _ursulet_. Her Martin is a Lukas to the core even if he wasn’t raised in the manor, just the way she is a Lukas even if she married into the family, maybe Mauve Blackwood did managed to do _one_ good thing in her miserable life, after all.

“Martin? Dragule, are you awake?” she calls eagerly but softly, opening the already ajar door.

The sight that greets her it’s not what she was expecting. Martin is sitting in bed, already dressed for the day in a cinnamon coloured jumper and jeans with canvas shoes. He is weeping quietly, and seems to be hugging himself, his freckles shine with the wetness on his cheeks and Odeta’s old cold heart _breaks_ at the sight. She hurries to his side, unsure of what to do, in this family the only comfort one can hope for is the embrace of the fog, but Odeta knows that it’s not what Martin needs.

Problem is she doesn’t know what he needs.

His eyes, full of tears, meet hers and, suddenly, she knows what to do. Maybe it’s all a hidden motherly instinct still left in her that is guiding her as she steps closer, arms outstretched towards him, welcoming him into her arms; he buries his face on her shoulder and whimpers.

“Nana… Nana…” he says, voice broken and full of barely contained emotion.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, trying to understand, but her grandson continues to cry, unable to get the words out.

Had he somehow gotten the news before she reached him? How? Oh, for the love of everything holy, Elias didn’t call him to taunt him or something, did he? If he dared to, if that monster dared to hurt her Martin, he will pay. She looks around the room, trying to see… something; she doesn’t really know _what_ just something that can tell her how much does Martin know about what happened.

And she sees it when her eyes land on the nightstand. It’s a spider, a tarantula with the legs curled beneath the body. It looks dead, or like someone hit it with a rolled up newspaper. Peter mutters something about calling Elias and Odeta hears his heavy footsteps retreating into the hallway. 

Nathaniel remains at the threshold, unsure on how to proceed. His eyes dart to the spider again, how did it get here? Why is it here in the first place? Why is Martin so upset? Those are questions he doesn’t have the answer to, but Odeta seems to know, because she eyeing the spider every now and then, as if expecting it to do something other than lying there half dead.

“Nathaniel, could you give us a moment?” she asks him without turning, and he obliges, retreating into the hallway behind him without saying a word as he closes the door.

She caresses Martin’s hair, and, unsure of what else to do, she starts humming a lullaby she had once heard as a child, trying to calm him down. Her grandson most likely does not understand the words, but her gentle tone seems to soothe him, because his shoulders stop shaking.

Odeta is not a nice person, not even a _good_ person. That is just a fact, one that does not burden her, because she simply does not care. She has always felt that she is above such silly definitions.

However, a curious thing about anchors is that not only do they keep you alive… _they keep you human as well_ , something Odeta forgot a lot of time ago that she could be. Here, with her grandson crying in her arms as she whispers reassurances and soothing words she didn’t know she could even pronounce and let alone in such a soft voice… well, she feels different.

Here she is not Odeta Lukas, matriarch of the Lukas family, wife of the late Forsaken King August Lukas. Here with Martin she feels… she feels like Odeta Gheata again, that naive young girl that flew with her parents from Romania during the Second World War, that same little girl whose smile once mirrored the brightness on Martin’s.

She never feels more human than when she is with Martin, and it’s a comforting sensation, even when it hurts, like now, that a heavy weight seems to have settled on her chest at the sight of Martin hurting. So she kisses his forehead and takes a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe away his tears, as she does so, she notices something from the corner of her eye and smiles.

“Look at the spider, _dragul meu._ ”

.

_It’s no big surprise you turned out this way, when they closed their eyes and prayed you would change, and they cut your hair and sent you away. You stopped by my house the night you escaped, with tears in my eyes I begged you to stay. You said, hey man, I love you but no fucking way…_

Gerry has their music on as they sits on the backseat of Mike’s car, he drove all the way down to Oxford to go get them (apparently he had been told by Helen about what is going on) so now he is driving them down the slowly awakening streets of London after making a quick stop at the Fielding flat to pick up some stuff Anna, who is sitting in the passenger seat, thought that Jon may need, they’re not too far from the hospital; but Gerry is trying their best not to think about what awaits them, not yet, they just need to think. Yeah, just… think about… stuff. Yeah, that sounds about right.

They’re just worried about Jon, okay?

When you grow up with a mother like Mary Keay it’s not a surprise when you wake up one day and realise that normal children have very different lives from the one you lead. By the time they were thirteen, Gerry had tried several times to run away from home, but they always came back, what was there for them in the normal world? Nothing, that’s what, they always thought that they would never find someone who would understand them, who would hear them and sympathize with what they were saying.

They thought that at least until they met Jon, of course.

_When they were thirteen and Jon was ten, so around two years before Raymond’s murder, they met at the Magnus Institute when the archives were still under Gertrude’s reign of terror. Jon’s father had a reunion with Elias Bouchard and had taken his children along, not wanting to leave them alone all the way down in Oxford. Gerry’s mother had a reunion with the Archivist herself and dragged them along. Jon and Annabelle were there in the archives, the first was in a corner, with his nose buried in a book and the latter was busy charming Michael with her silly little girl talk as she painted something with some coloured pencils that the blond kept on his desk._

_Gerry liked Michael; he was nice and didn’t talk to them like they were four like Elias did. The man even apologized to them when he couldn’t lend them the colour pencils because Annabelle was using them._

_So they sat in a corner and started to draw, they were proud of how good at doing the eyes they were becoming._

_“I like your art” a voice next to them said. It was Jon, who had come closer to peek into what he was doing. It had taken Gerry aback, their own mother had called them talented once or twice, but no one else had called their drawings_ art _before._

_“Thanks” they said, before noticing the book under his arm, the cover looked familiar… “hey, what are you reading?”_

_“Coraline, ever read it?”_

_That’s how they started to talk, they talked and talked, eventually Gerry showed Jon their drawings, thing they had never done for_ anyone _and that ended with the curious boy asking Gerry if they knew how to draw spiders and when they said yes, Jon immediately requested one drawn one his forearm with black marker, it was a crude childish version of the spider Gerry would tattoo on Jon’s forearm several years later when they opened their very own tattoo parlour and their friend insisted in being their first client._

_They had really enjoyed Jon’s company, but when it was almost time to go home they remembered that Jon was probably a normal kid, a kid who went to school with other kids and who didn’t live in the world they did and they probably would never see him again. At least until Raymond Fielding himself came into the archives to retrieve his children. Something about this man stood up to Gerry, but they weren’t exactly sure why…_

_“Wait, what is this?” they froze when Raymond gently took Jon’s arm to see the drawing, oh god, had they gotten Jon in trouble? “Ah, it’s a spider, how adorable!” Jon proceeded to inform him who the artist behind the piece was, “Oh, Jon, you made a friend!” he retorted, apparently delighted as his son introduced them both, he shook Gerry’s hand, adding: “It’s nice to meet you, Gerry.”_

_Gerry remembers the eccentric man who thanked Michael for keeping an eye on his_ hatchlings _and smiling like it was no one’s business. They remember how out of date his clothes looked and they remember how warmly he smiled at Jon and Annabelle. He looked normal enough, but they still found something about him… unsettling, even if far was he from the monsters they had encountered on their mother’s business trips._

_“We should arrange a playdate, Mrs. Keay” he told Gerry’s mother when she finished her meeting with Gertrude, surprising both women. “Seems your kid got along with mine.”_

_They felt like they could jump with joy, if Jon’s dad knew their mother by name, chances were they belonged to their world. He didn’t listen to the rest of that conversation, too busy listening to Jon instead as he scribbled_ 105 Hill Top Road; Cowley; Oxford, _on their arm, asking that they please wrote to him, because his house didn’t have a landline._

_Gerry hoped, but they thought their mother would never allow for them to go on a playdate, especially once Mary realised Raymond was a servant of The Web. However, she seemed to believe that it would be beneficial for her to have ties to servants of The Spider, so Gerry’s friendship with Jon was allowed to continue through letters and, on one memorable occasion, by stopping for a visit when Mary had business in Oxfordshire._

In present day, Gerry fishes in the pocket of their leather jacket until they pull out a lighter, gold plated and with a distinctive cobweb design, Jon’s lighter; his most treasured possession, because it once belonged to Raymond. It speaks volumes about Jon’s hope of survival that he handed it over to them.

The lighter glints in the early sunlight coming through the window, and it’s funny how just that it’s enough to remind Gerry of several instances where they had seen Jon using it. Right now, they remember a beach in Bournemouth, when they were sixteen and Jon was thirteen, it was after Raymond died and the siblings were sent to live with their grandmother.

_They had noticed just how sad did Jon sound in his letters, so Gerry packed a small overnight bag, grabbed some money from Mary’s purse and took off to the beach city their friend now lived in. They knew their mother would be mad at them, after all, she probably didn’t see the point in keeping contact with the Fielding family now that their patriarch was dead, but they didn’t care. Jon needed them._

_They had dressed slightly dressier than they used to, with blue jeans and a black dress shirt beneath a dark sweater, even tied their hair into a low ponytail. They didn’t know what Jon’s grandmother was like, but she sounded strict, so dressing nicely it was. Jon had been overjoyed to see them, even showing them down to a place where he liked to go to read, not far away from his house. They stayed a long time there at the beach; Jon playing with the lighter as they talked, opening and closing it, clicking it on and off, it was hypnotizing. He eventually, almost unnoticeably he creeped closer until he was basically plastered to Gerry’s side, they warped an arm around him._

_“What’s on your mind?”_

_“I miss my dad” he said, voice broken, and, curled up as he was against them, he looked so small and young, “I want to cry, but I can’t.”_

_“Why not, Jon?” if someone had told their younger friend about boys not being allowed to cry or some of that bullshit, they were going to snap._

_“I promised Dad that I will take care of Annabelle, and she cries every night because she misses him, I don’t want to cry in front of her, I have… I have to be strong…”_

_“Well, Annabelle isn’t here right now, is she?” that seemed to do the trick; Jon whimpered and started to cry, Gerry held him through it all, murmuring reassurances. They too had lost their father, but, unlike Jon, they had never met him, but they did what they could to soothe their friend. It seemed to work, even if Jon then made them promise that they would_ never _tell a soul that he had been crying. Not that Gerry had anyone else besides Jon to talk to, but whatever made the younger one happy they guessed._

Gerry looks out the window again, that was the first time they had seen Jon with the lighter, the last one was that last afternoon they saw each other and Jon handed it over, making Gerry promise that they would keep Annabelle safe and… well, that even if Jon’s wasn’t there, that they had to see the plan- _their_ plan, the one they concocted together all those years ago, come to fruition.

Gerry promised that, no matter what, they wouldn’t disappoint Jon with either of those things.

* * *

When Jon wakes up, the one occupying the chair next to his bed is Daisy, she is scrolling through her phone with earphones on. He takes a moment to look at her. She looks tired, with dark circles under her eyes and a bandage on her left cheek. Her brown eyes look up and find his.

“Hey” he manages to croak out.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty” she greets, smiling as she pulls out her earphones and leaves them along with her phone in the little table next to his bedside. “How are you doing?”

“I feel like a truck ran me over, you got the-” he clears his throat and then tries to sit up, she moves the pillows around a bit, “you got the plate?”

She doesn’t answer, just rolls her eyes, and, once Jon is properly sitting up, she bends slightly and wraps his arms around him, the height difference is more than noticeable, but Jon doesn’t say anything, not at first, he just wraps his arms around Daisy’s shoulders, melting into her warm embrace. She is not the kind to often give physical affection like this, so Jon has learnt to treasure when it does happen.

“Ah, I knew that, deep down, you liked-”

“Finish that sentence and I will send you right back to surgery”, she threats, her voice a bit wet.

“Noted, shutting up now” she lets go some moments after, patting Jon’s hair as she does. “Was Georgie here?” he faintly remembers her sitting in the chair Daisy is occupying, was it a dream, perhaps?

“What? Oh, yeah, we were taking turns, didn’t wanted you to wake up alone” she shrugs and Jon can’t help the smile that blossoms in his face. “We’re in London; by the way, Helen showed up and gave us a shortcut. Annabelle will be here in fifteen minutes, she wasn’t answering the phone, so we told Mike to go get her, and Lukas is still in Kent, but he will be here in an hour or so as well.”

“And what about the others, Tim, Sasha, Basira, are they alright?”

“Yes, we all got out. Basira got out, on her own, how exactly she did that I’m not sure, but that doesn’t matter. Stoker managed to get both you and Sasha out as well, he is surprisingly unharmed, given that you and James are the worst ones and he pulled you when you were unconscious dead weight. Melanie has been trying to get him to go home, but he refuses to leave her side”, Jon nods, that does sound like Tim, it’s weird that he is pleased that Tim took the time to get him out as well? “I just have scrapes and bruises, but it’s fine, we’re fine. The Clown Bitch is probably dead, she was the closest to the explosion” he nods. “Ah, and Jon…”, she pulls out something from her pocket, Martin’s medallion, “you dropped this when we got here, seems like you managed to rip it from your neck, but you were clutching it in your fist when we found you, the metal glinted in the flames so Stoker noticed you were beneath a pile of rubble, I fixed the chain for you. Do you… want me to help you put it on?” he hesitates, hand outstretched to take it.

“Do you think it would be… weird if I did?” It’s still Martin’s medallion… shit, it probably _is_ weird.

“Nah, I think you’re good”, she says, before putting it around his neck before he changes his mind.

Annabelle chooses that moment to burst in through the door, followed by Mike, who looks relieved upon seeing him, but he can see the panic light up in his eyes when he spots Daisy. Ah, it seems that, after all this years, Mike is still scared of Daisy, which is justified, knowing her and knowing how the man was brought into their group in the first place.

“You should go take a nap, Daisy” Jon softly tells her. “I will still be here when you come back, I won’t run away or something, I promise” Daisy rolls her eyes, smiling and patting his head one last time before she excuses herself, without forgetting to smile dangerously at Mike, who gulps and tries to play it cool. Someone should tell her to cut the man some slack, Jon thinks, but that someone won’t be him, nope. It’s funny to see Mike squirm.

“It’s good to see you alive, Jon” he says, once the door has closed, “not that I thought you wouldn’t be or something!” Mike adds. “I mean, Nikola was dangerous and all that but- I mean!”

“It’s fine, Mike, I get what you mean” the man with the lighting scar looks at his girlfriend as if looking for confirmation, she nods.

“Alright, I have to go, but if either of you need anything later call me, okay?” she blows him a kiss and he makes a show of catching it before bringing it to his lips. Jon tries really hard not to roll his eyes at such a silly display.

Mike leaves and a nurse comes into the room. He gives Jon a funny look but goes to check his vitals, Annabelle asks to be updated on whatever is going on with him, explaining that she is a _very_ _concerned_ sister and would it be possible for her to take him home with her so he can be cared for at home, pretty please?

“I’m afraid that’s not possible, Miss, we need to keep him overnight for observation to make sure the wound progresses as we expect, pellets are not something to be taken lightly, even if they only went skin deep like in your case, plus we will need to change the bandages later”, his smile turns playful, “but perhaps, you should have a chat with your brother, every time I come by to check how he is doing, there’s a different lady by his bedside!”

“Jonathan Sims Fielding!” she says in mock surprise. “Your boyfriend is coming all the way from Kent as fast as he can because he is worried sick about you, and this is how you pay him?” she clicks her tongue in disapproval. “Daddy would be so disappointed, Jon.”

“What?” he says, still feeling somehow sleepy to fully process what his sister just said.

“Lucky you I planned ahead” she adds, taking her handbag, she turns to the nurse, “I brought him a change of clothes and some other stuff, can he get changed? My future brother in law will be here in an hour and he was _so_ worried, I want my brother to look presentable.”

“I’m sure it’s fine. Just do try not to move him around much, his wounds are still fresh, after all, oh, and as for clothes, as long as it’s cotton it would be okay” she nods.

The nurse does some more tests and assures Jon that the feeling of sleepiness is normal and it’s because he was put under general anaesthesia a few hours prior, before departing.

“Just to clarify” he says as Annabelle takes his favourite black The Clash t-shirt from the bag and starts to gently help him put it on over the hospital gown, “he is _not_ my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, shut up so I can make you pretty for him anyways.”

“Annabelle, I haven’t used lipstick _in years_ ”, he continues to protest when he sees her start to take cosmetics out of the bag.

“Well, you will today, shut up already.”

Jon resigns himself to the fact that his sister will be playing dress up with him as the doll for at least the next forty minutes, only because he knows this is Annabelle’s way of spending time with him, they both need it after he almost died last night. Plus, it’s not like she doesn’t know what she is doing, sure, her degree may say _Psychology, Philosophy and Linguistics_ , he would know, he was there when they handed her diploma, but she is also well-versed in the matters of fashion and cosmetics.

* * *

Tim hasn’t moved from the spot when Melanie gets back with two coffees. She passes him one without saying anything as she sits next to him. He takes a sip, it’s too hot but he doesn’t care when it burns his tongue, he feels Melanie take his gloveless hand and squeeze, he squeezes back, even if everything around him feels somehow _duller_ and _muffled_ he appreciates Melanie being here.

“Had they told you anything new since I was gone?”

“Not really, just that it’s _impossible_ and a _miracle_ , she was dead for like, more than twenty minutes, it should have been impossible for her to come back, but Elias was helpful for once in his goddamn life and asked them to check her brain activity or something. When they were finishing with that, she slowly started to breathe again and her heart started up” she gives him another squeeze when he chokes up in the last word, “Mellie, we need to call her dad but I don’t- I don’t think I- can…”

“I will do it” she immediately volunteers, anything to take that weight off of her friend’s shoulders, “but he is still in Italy, right? Let’s just wait one more day, maybe she will get better and it will be easier to tell him, alright?”

“Yeah, sounds better.”

He looks at Sasha’s sleeping form, he has had seen her sleeping more than once, and she looks so peaceful… almost angelical, but right now, under this fluorescent lights, she looks… sick, unhealthy. He curses himself for being a coward and not daring to tell her how he felt, not daring to tell her that… that he loves her, that she makes him feel wonderful things, things that make him feel like a lovesick schoolboy, that he would give up everything he has just to see her smile. Looking down at his gloved hand, he can’t help but think that even that was not enough.

He regrets not giving her a last kiss before going into that damned House of Wax.

He starts to feel he may never get the chance.

No, he can’t think like that. Sasha **will** wake up; sooner or later she will be back and he would be able to see her smile, to hear laugh or even complain that he is getting worse than Martin when it comes to pining. She will be back, and he will wait for her right here, he won’t move until those beautiful eyes of hers open once again.

* * *

Martin makes his way through the busy hospital hallway, looking for the room Jon is in, he had been briefed on the situation by Melanie over text, he plans to pass to see the spider first and then Sasha, he will also try to convince Tim to go home at least for a few hours while he is at it. Christ, what a mess.

Peter brought him to the hospital just a few minutes before, telling him he would be back to pick him up in a hour, even when he insisted he could just take the tube. Today was one of those days where Martin feels like grabbing his uncle by the shoulders, shaking him and yelling _OPEN UP YOUR EYES_ , because he saw how big he smiled when he mentioned going to see Elias. The redhead wholeheartedly believes that Peter is not _evil_ or something, he just fell in love with a bad man.

He clutches a small white box to his chest as he knocks on the door, a few seconds pass and a female voice he recognises as Annabelle’s tells him to come in. Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

He’s here, he’s smiling, he’s alive and he is… wait.

Jon is, as expected, sitting in bed. However, he is wearing that same black t-shirt he wore that night at Georgie’s party, he has brushed his hair and has put on a hairclip shaped like a golden spider at the side to keep his hair out of his face. He is also wearing deep burgundy lipstick and a bit of eyeliner. Martin blinks, trying to make sense of the image in front of him.

“Martin!” Annabelle greets him, her coat already on and a white box in her hands, not much different from the one he is holding against his chest. “Come in, come in! Oh, what do you have there?”

“Uh…” he takes the box away from his chest and reveals he was actually trying to hide a tarantula that is clinging to his chest. “I- uh- I was bringing her in a box, figured she needed to be close to you or something, because she wasn’t looking good this morning and, ah, I remembered that you said you don’t put them in closed spaces, so, uh, I didn’t closed it, and in the way here she climbed out and now she doesn’t want to let go.”

Jon chuckles.

“Sounds like her, come closer” he instructs and he obliges, Jon then carefully takes the tarantula off of him, and maybe it is Martin’s imagination but the arachnid seems more cooperative now that she is around her caretaker again. “Ah, there we go. You can take them all home now, Anna” he continues, placing her in the bigger box with the other six spiders.

“Okay, I should be back in an hour or two, do you need me to bring you anything?”

“Ah, uh, my laptop and my spare glasses please” she nods, “and, could you bring me some food? I… I don’t want to eat the one from the hospital.”

Annabelle laughs at this.

“Alright, laptop, glasses, some smuggled food, oh, a blanket too, just to be on the safe side. If you remember anything else tell Gerry so they can text me, they will be staying around to keep _you_ company tonight” she winks at his frown, then turns to Martin and smiles. “Take care of him for me while I’m gone, okay?”

She quickly exits, not leaving Martin any time to argue, not that he would. The chair the girls were occupying while waiting for Jon to wake up has been moved to the other side of the bed while Annabelle was helping her brother get ready, so Martin takes it, smiling at the other man as he does so.

“Ah, Annabelle said she wanted me to… look pretty” he admits, suddenly subconscious and toying with the hair clip.

“You do look pretty.”

“Ah, thanks.”

An awkward silence falls between them and Martin hates it, there are some many things he wants to say to him, maybe start with _I’m glad you’re alright, Jon_ or _I don’t know what would I do if something happened to you_ , no, wait, that’s too dramatic, maybe just give him back the jacket he gave him and say something cool like _see? I took care of it!_ Oh, god, no, that’s just pathetic.

Jon offers his hand with a shy smile.

“Can you see in the dark?” it takes him a moment to understand what he means, and when he does, he giggles and takes his hand in his.

“You can be really sweet when you want to be.”

“Only for those who is worth doing it for”, he shyly admits as he shrugs one shoulder. _Oh, my god_. How is he supposed to answer to _that_? God, even worse, why can’t he come up with phrases like that? He is supposed to be a poet, for heaven’s sake! Instead, he just smiles, hoping that it can convey everything he wants to say to Jon as he squeezes his hand slightly. “Did you listen to the tape?”

“Tape, what tape, Jon?”

“Oh… you didn’t find it. I, uh, left you a tape, it was on the right pocket of my jacket” he bites his lower lip and Martin can’t help but think that someone who is in a hospital bed because he just survived a goddamn _explosion_ doesn’t have the right to look so darn cute. He also doesn’t really want to let go of Jon’s hand, but he does anyways to reach into his bag and retrieve his jacket, he does check the right pocket, finding a tape labelled _FOR MARTIN_ in bold black letters probably done on a marker.

“Huh, I… I left my tape recorder on the archives, sorry” he excuses, the other man nods and moves to take it from him, but Martin moves faster and holds it out of his reach, “don’t worry, I will listen to it later. Just… it’s not a farewell letter or something, right?”

“Not exactly, it is just… something I thought that you would like, since you like all that retro aesthetic and all that.”

“Alright, that’s nice, thank you”, he stuffs the tape in his bag again and then places the jacket around Jon’s shoulders, who sits a little straighter to make it easier for him, he reaches for his hand once more and Jon gladly accepts it as well. “I was really worried, you know.”

“No need for that, we spiders know how to hide very well” he assures, “how was Kent?”

“Cold, very cold, my Nana made tara paine, though, so that’s good. Oh, that reminds me” he reaches into his backpack yet again, taking out a small red box, “I, uh, I brought you some chocolates”, Martin knows that Jon doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth but, as he discovered last Halloween, he loves bitter dark chocolate. “Can you… eat them or did they put you on a diet because of the wounds…?”

Jon chuckles and places the box next to him.

“I’m sure it’s fine” then he removes the medallion from around his neck. “Here, your medallion, I, uh, took good care of it!” Martin chuckles, if he had say those words it would have sounded pathetic, but when the other does it sure sounds like adorable shyness. “Can I…?” he offers and the redhead nods, shuffling closer so Jon can reach to place the golden chain around his neck, wincing a bit when the chair scrapes against the linoleum floor because of the movement.

Jon doesn’t seem to mind, though, and Martin’s heart nearly explodes when he gets closer to put the medallion on. He is close enough that Martin could bend down a little and kiss him, if he felt so inclined. He is, of course, not going to do that, just because he would have lost it if something had happened to Jon doesn’t mean that the spider feels the same way, even if he did leave him a tape and his favourite jacket. And one of his spiders, don’t forget the spider, but then again, he probably has left something like that for everyone. So he just drinks in the moment, barely noticing just how cold Jon’s fingertips are against the bare skin of his neck, then the fingers are gone and Jon is smiling at him, he smiles back.

A phone ringing breaks through their bubble and upon realizing it is _his_ phone Martin wants to yeet it through the window.

**[Message from Uncle Peter]:** _I’m almost done at the institute. I can go pick you up now if you’re done with Itsy Bitsy. Do you need anything from here before I leave?_

“Do you have to leave?” Jon hates how disappointed he sounds.

“Yeah, but I will come by tomorrow too!”

“I’ll be waiting then”, he smiles. “Ah, you have something in your cheek”, he gestures for Martin to come closer and when he does, Jon quickly presses a kiss to his cheek. “There you go, so, see you tomorrow?”

* * *

“So…” Gerry says a while later, ditching the chair to sit in front of Jon in the hospital bed, who is busy scrubbing the lipstick off with a make-up wipe, “are we not going to address how your _Lonely Boy_ exited here with a kiss mark the same colour as your lipstick?”

“No we’re not, I’m not even sure what you’re referring to, Ge-”, he stops abruptly. “Wait. Gerard, did you just made a Sex Pistols reference to my face?”

“I suppose I did, Jonathan”, they narrow their eyes at their friend who mirrors the gesture, right before the both of them burst into laughter. “Really you’re ridiculous, Jon. I mean, it’s cute and all that, it’s nice to see you smile for something that is not your evil plans coming together, but Jesus.”

“ _Our_ evil plans”, he corrects. “I’m… I’m actually planning to tell Tim, Martin and Sasha soon.”

“Actually, that’s a good idea, the sooner the better I would say”, they wince, “god, Jon, you look like a runaway bride, let me help you with that” they offer, crawling in the bed to take the wipe from him to help. “Do you have any idea what make-up brand Anna used on your face? Because, it isn’t coming out easily, yep, this will take a while.”

They indeed spend a while cleaning up the lipstick from their friend’s face, Jon just decides to leave the eyeliner on if it’s going to be this much of a hassle to take off. That’s when Daisy comes back in.

“Alice Daisy Tonner, what do you think you’re doing here?” Jon scolds.

“Oh, god, _don’t_ use the _dad_ voice on me” she complains, then frowns, “and don’t call me Alice, _Jonathan_ ”, she closes the distance between them and sits at the vacant chair. “So, did Lukas not show his face here?”

“Quite the opposite, I would say” Gerry informs, showing her the box of chocolates Martin brought.

“Yeah, yeah” Jon interrupts, snatching the box from his friend, “shouldn’t you be home, Daisy?”

“Nah, I wanted to stay a little longer, I, um, went to see Sasha, actually.”

“How is she?”

“Is not looking good, I mean, she has a heartbeat now, but she is still ‘unresponsive’, as the doctors called it. We will just have to wait”, she shrugs. “Didn’t see Stoker, though, maybe King convinced him to go home, as he should, he, James and you were the closest to the explosion.”

Someone knocks on the door, which is unexpected, given that is still a while before Annabelle should be back, but Jon tells them to come in anyway. He is even more surprised when it’s Tim who steps into the room, with Melanie coming in right behind him, closing the door behind her. They had of course made up before going into that suicide mission, but it’s not his visit that surprises Jon, but rather how… unharmed Tim looks. Jon himself has bandages all over his body, the most serious being the ones covering the pellets wounds resulting from the flashing debris of the explosion in his abdomen and thigh that landed him on surgery, while Tim has only a Band-Aid on the cheek and stitches on one of his eyebrows to show that he was hurt.

“Hey” he greets, smiling that friendly smile of his. “Just wanted to see how our spider was doing.”

“He looks terrible.”

“It is nice to see you too, Melanie.”

Daisy abruptly gets up from the chair, making it screech when it scrapes against the linoleum, Jon winces at the sound, before she marches straight towards Tim.

“Daisy, what’s wrong?” Gerry manages to ask, as the blond woman reaches the shorter man, hiding him from view of the two in the bed.

“Did… did you just sniff me?” he asks, bewildered.

“I see”, she says, straightening before turning to her friends, a crooked but smug smile on her face, “he is one of us.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I told you they would notice, Stoker.”

“Wait, Melanie, you knew about this?”

“I… well, kind of?” she offers, “I helped him when he got his mark, and I suspected he may have fully Become when you and Sasha looked like hell and he was unharmed, even more so when Daisy said he was the one that pulled both of you out.”

There’s a silence for a few moments, in which Tim fidgets a bit in his place. He knows his friends won’t judge him for the choice he has made, but he is not sure what to say next.

“ _Someone_ should ask the question” Gerry finally says, and everyone seems to agree, “and by _someone,_ I actually mean Jon.”

“Oh? Ah, yeah, of course” he clears his throat turning to Tim, “ _which patron do you serve?_ ”

“I, uh…” he straightens, squaring his shoulders. “I serve The Dark.”

“And what’s your title, servant of The Dark?”

“I… don’t have one? Do- Do I need one?”

“I mean, not really?” Jon offers, “However, a title it’s important, in your case you can choose it if you want. Come here, sit, I guess I never explained that part to you, huh?” Tim nods and does as he was told, Melanie staying close and Daisy choosing to return to her place, sitting next to Gerry on the bed. “Like Martin told you, a title is something other avatars can use to refer to you, there are three ways to get a title; one: you inherit it, like Sasha or me, _The Puppeteer_ , was originally my father’s title and I took on the mantle when he died and Sasha unknowingly got hers when she accepted the transfer to the Archives. Two: it’s given to you, such is the case with Daisy” he gestures at her, “she made a name for herself in her early years as a hunter and people started to refer to her as Huntress, she simply decided to go along with it. Same with Melanie” Tim turns to look at his friend, she nods, “and finally three: you choose it, my sister did that, our father used to call her _my little weaver of lies_ , and, well, spiders weave webs, so Anna chose that as her title as a way to honour our father”.

“I see, are there any, like, _rules_ for this?”

“Not really” Gerry continues, “to be honest you can pick whatever you want, like, I call myself the Living Fire because I serve the Desolation and, as corny as it sounds, the fire makes me feel alive, but it’s really arbitrary, maybe you want to reference the patron _you_ serve, maybe you want to reference what you do, or something that happened to you, or you choose a theme, like the Lukases.”

The surprise must show on Tim’s face, because Jon chuckles.

“What? You thought they call Martin ‘ _The Forsaken Prince’_ because it sounds fancy? No, Tim, the Lukas family has taken upon using royal titles or titles that hold a certain authority when referring to their own, one would say it’s pretentious, if they didn’t have the money and power to back up those titles, of course. Just so you know, our world has it’s own Queen, in the form of Odeta Lukas, who we know as _The Ice Queen_ ”.

“Odeta Lukas” Tim repeats, because that name is so, so very familiar. “Odeta Lukas, as in the woman that is Martin’s grandmother, and that sounds like your lovely everyday grandmother who makes cookies and knits sweaters.”

“Like my sister says, it’s important that people always _over_ or _under_ estimate you. Also, to be fair, you haven’t met her and you’re only going by what Martin told you, she is his grandmother, Tim, what do you think he is going to say about her, huh, that she is a cold-blooded killer who is better not to meet?”

“Oh, leave him” Daisy interrupts, “we haven’t told him the tale of the six hunters yet.”

“I see your point” he admits. “This…” he huffs, “this is a lot to take in.”

“There are always new things to learn about our world, but don’t worry, luckily you landed with us.”

“Jon is right…” Melanie says, placing a hand on Tim’s shoulder, smiling, and then she seems to take in her own words because she looks horrified. “Oh, my god, did I just- Oh, god, ew, disgusting…” everyone bursts into laughter. “Ugh, anyways, what I mean is, that there’s a lot to this world, but we will help you in every way we can, Tim, that’s what the team is for.”

“Thank you, really” he smiles.

“Also, I’m _so_ telling Georgie you said I was right, Melanie” Jon declares, smiling smugly.

“You do that and I will _extend_ your hospital stay, Jonathan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Odeta Lukas, Queen of the supernatural world** : I’m not a good person.  
>  **Martin:** *exists*  
>  **Odeta Lukas, grandmother of one (1) baby boy:** I’m still not a good person but I also love my grandson.
> 
> Odeta can feel a little human, as a treat.
> 
> Romanian words used by Odeta in this chapter:  
>  _Micul print_ : meaning "little prince", in reference to Martin's title.  
>  _Ursulet_ : Romanian pet name meaning something close to "little bear cub"
> 
> I hope that you liked Baby!Jon and Baby!Gerry being friends.
> 
> Tell me in the comments what you think about Tim's reveal! I was very excited for this part; I did hide several clues of what was going to come in previous chapters, had you noticed any of them? If you did, which ones?
> 
> Alright! The next chapter will be our last for the first instalment of this series; I hope that you like this alternative universe so far!
> 
> _See you soon, my lovelies <3_


	13. Kiss me hard before you go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been almost two months since Sasha fell into a coma and she hasn’t woken up yet, but perhaps there’s something that can be done about it…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Soundtrack:** Jet Pack Blues (Fall Out Boy), I miss you (Blink-182), Goodbye, my Danish sweetheart (Mistki), The light behind your eyes (My Chemical Romance), Fourth of July (Sufjan Stevens).

Martin has been visiting Jon and Sasha on the hospital almost daily during the last month, almost because all Saturdays are labelled _Visiting Nana Day_ on his calendar. Today is one of those days, so he is on the train on his way to Kent, he still has some time to go until he reaches his destination, but it’s fine, because he has earphones in, he is finally listening to the tape Jon left for him.

He didn’t mean to wait so long to listen to it, it’s just that everything has been going badly recently, with Jon still in the hospital, Sasha who is still not waking up, Tim barely leaving Sasha’s side, he and Melanie having to manage the whole archive by themselves, and what’s worse, he had been getting some worrying updates from his Mum’s nurses in the care home, so there hasn’t been much time left for anything else, but he is not thinking about any of that. Not today.

_…I remember, “Baby, come home”. Did you ever love her? Do you know? Or did you never want to be alone? And she was singing… “Baby, come home”. I remember, “Baby, come home”._

The tape Jon left for him is a mixtape, made up of songs he seemed to think Martin would like and he does. Most are songs he already knew, but isn’t it sweet that Jon would know him so well as to know what kind of music he likes best? If anything it is a great distraction from everything else going on.

_Hello there, the angel from my nightmare, the shadow in the background of the morgue. The unsuspecting victim of darkness in the valley, we can live like Jack and Sally if we want… where you can always find me, and we will have Halloween on Christmas, and in the night we will wish this never ends. We’ll wish this never ends…_

This one in particular sounds familiar… not the song, but the voice, actually? Oh! He realizes is one of those pop-punk American bands that Jon likes, for all that he argues about American spellings compared to British ones, he sure likes a lot of bands from across the pond. He recalls this one particularly because Jon showed him a couple of songs from this band and the lyrics were quite nice, well, _some_ of their songs had nice lyrics. _The idea is that the provocative lyrics have to stir something in you, Martin, they’re still punk_ , he recalls Jon saying.

_…I miss you, I miss you… Where are you? And I’m so sorry, I cannot sleep, I cannot dream tonight. I need somebody and always, this sick strange darkness, comes creeping on so haunting every time. And as I stared I counted the webs from all the spiders, catching things and eating their insides…_

Oh… that’s actually quite poetic and Martin finds himself liking the song more and more. He bites his lips to repress a smile as he stares out the dizzying blur out the window, every time he hears _spiders_ he can’t help but think about Jon and his beloved tarantulas.

_Like indecision to call you and hear your voice of treason. Will you come home and stop this tonight? Stop this pain tonight._

Martin freezes, before staring at the tape recorder, tucked away inside the backpack in his lap as if it held the answers. What he is hearing is actually a love song! Why would Jon include a love song in a mixtape for him?! Maybe because he thought he would like the lyrics? Maybe there’s no reason and he is just reading too much into it? Maybe he is even misinterpreting the song and it’s not even a love song?

_Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already the voice inside my head (I miss you, I miss you). Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already the voice inside my head (I miss you, I miss you)._

Nope, that’s definitely a love song; maybe Jon put it there on accident? Then again, Martin recalls how often Jon goes off on tangents about everything happening for a reason and how nothing it’s random, even the most innocuous of things. Now that he is thinking about it, it’s really hard to believe that Jonathan Sims Fielding, known perfectionist, would just slip in the wrong song on a mixtape that was created especially for him while having the knowledge that he might not come back. A mixtape that was created as a sort of _Goodbye_ to Martin… no, it is borderline impossible that Jon would allow for such a thing to have the smallest mistake in it.

He barely manages to think about _not_ thinking about this particular song any longer when the next one starts and Martin it’s sure it just gave him _whiplash_.

_There’s nobody better than you, took me a while until I knew. But you knew from the start it was us, didn’t you? It just took me a while until I knew. Now I lay as I study a blank wall, would you spare me your voice if I call? Cause you waited and watered my heart until it grew; you just grew a little smarter too._

Martin’s music taste is simple, because it mostly consists of queer artists singing about yearning and forbidden love because Martin is very, very gay. So, it’s no wonder that he recognises the Mitski song that is playing; it’s even one of his favourites! At this point he doesn’t know what to think anymore, did Jon really pick these songs because he thought _that he would like them,_ or was there something else to the selection?

_There’s some kind of burning inside me, it’s kept me from falling apart and I’m sure that you’ve seen what it’s done to my heart, but it’s kept me from falling apart. Now here I lay, as I wonder about you, would you just tell me what I’m meant to do? Cause I’ve waited and watered my heart until it grew; you can see how it blossomed for you._

No, there **_has_ **to be something more to it, the lyrics are too on the nose to be accidental and he never listened to this song at the archives or showed it to Jon for the spider to know that this is one of his personal favourites. I mean the idea of Jon willingly looking up Mitski lyrics is laughable, but…

He decides to pay attention to the lyrics.

_And I don’t blame you if you want to bury me in your memory, I’m not who I ought to be, but maybe when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me, and not the way I am._

Was this planned as some sort of posthumous confession? No, that can’t be it, Martin won’t- _can’t_ let himself get his hopes up like that, doesn’t think he is going to be able to stand it if he is wrong. He discreetly takes a deep breath, remembering that he is in a train with other people, still away from the manor. Ugh, he sort of wishes they would all just… go away, so he can panic about this in peace.

_And I don’t mean to make your heart blue, but could we be what we’re meant to be? I’m just about to beg you please, and then when you tell your friends you can tell them what you saw in me, and not the way I used to be. ‘Cause there’s nobody better than you._

_God, Jon, what are you trying to tell me?_ He is so caught up in his thoughts that it takes him a moment to realise the song has ended and a new one has begun, determined to get to the bottom of this, he tries to pay attention to the lyrics again, it’s easier to do so when you already know the song, which is not the case with this one.

_…Be strong and hold my hand, time becomes for us, you’ll understand. We’ll say goodbye today, and I’m sorry how it ends this way. If you promise not to cry, then I’ll tell you just what I would say._

_No_ , he tells himself, _it wasn’t a goodbye…_ , but Martin realises he is only kidding himself. It was a goodbye, a part of him _knew_ that he may never see Jon again, that what gave him the courage to kiss him in the cheek, to give him his medallion, he clutches the golden accessory in a white knuckled grip, as he tries to blink back the tears that are blurring his vision, he tries to remind himself that Jon is _safe_ , he is _alive_ , he remembers the way he smiled when he visited him for the first time in the hospital, that tired, relieved smile of his.

But Jon thought that he was going to die, and he still took the time to prepare a farewell to Martin.

_If I could be with you tonight I would sing you to sleep. Never let them take the light behind your eyes. I’ll fail and lose this fight, never fade in the dark. Just remember you will always burn as bright…_

He is no longer listening, instead he is trying to keep the tears at bay, he covers his mouth and lets out a shaky exhale, he is at the back of the train, not many people around, but he still wants to make it to Kent without shedding a single tear. His grandmother already had enough the day after the Unknowing when he saw the tarantula and thought Jon was gone, no need to stress her further- to _burden_ her with his non-sense. Why is he even crying?

He remembers something Tim uses to do when he hears Martin’s self-deprecation (which at this point has become like a second nature to him) or saying that someone really shouldn’t have bothered to take the time to give him something or do something for him.

_Repeat after me,_ he says, _I, Martin K. Blackwood Lukas, deserve nice things. It’s okay when people care about me or give me things, because I deserve nice things_ , rinse and repeat a couple times, and then he would say something silly like, _I, Martin K. Blackwood Lukas, think that Tim is the sexiest archival assistant,_ or _I, Martin K. Blackwood Lukas, think that Elias is a huge prick_ for Martin to repeat to bring the mood back up.

Tim’s method must have worked if his brain is choosing to remember it now.

He tries to breathe and barely notices the music has ended, at least until it’s replaced by a voice he knows well.

_“Martin, if you’re listening to this, I’m sorry.”_

And just like that the tape softly clicks off, signalling the end of the recording.

* * *

Martin doesn’t talk to Jon about the tape, and Jon doesn’t ask him.

They’re walking down the brightly-lit hallway of the Queen Mary Hospital, away from the room where they’re keeping Sasha while she is here. Martin did wonder about who was paying the hospital bill because it sure must be expensive if he goes by what he knows about patient care around the clock. Tim informed him that Elias is the one covering the costs, and that he hates it.

“It hurts me to see Tim this way…” he tells Jon, not really expecting an answer, but the man looks at him as they exit the hospital, as if prompting him to continue. “I know we can’t do anything, but I wish we could.”

“Right now, she is going through life and death and has to make a choice”, confusion must be evident on his face, because Jon explains further, “when you’re an avatar you need to _die_ either for real, or metaphorically” he looks at the building, “I think the explosion at the House of Wax it’s what triggered Tim’s Becoming, may have started Sasha’s as well.”

“Well, you don’t look dead to me” he says, crossing his arms and biting the inside of his cheek, it was mostly intended as a joke, but it kind of sounds like an accusation. He had already been told by Tim himself about his Becoming and how Tim is now like the rest of them.

“Remind me to show you the scar from Mr. Spider’s bite sometime” he answers, smiling at him, before turning to the building again. “Oh, there’s Tim.”

Martin turns and can see his friend walking towards them with what he has learnt is his smile now; honestly it just looks like a shadow of what he thinks as his _real_ smile. He is paler than usual, which accentuates the dark circles under his eyes. Sometimes he worries this new state of his is not only due to Sasha’s condition, but to his Becoming. He blinks at the brightness of the sunlight peeking through the clouds and absentmindedly puts on his sunglasses, hiding his dark grey eyes from view.

“Hey” he greets flatly, “Stella said I looked like I needed some air, she is so sweet I couldn’t really say no.”

“What you need is to go home, Tim” Martin insists gently, just like he did a few moments before back in the hospital room. “It’s been what, two months?”

“A month and twenty seven days, if you want to be specific”, he corrects, voice tired.

“It has already been that long?” Jon questions, finger tapping over his lip in thoughtfulness as he cradles his chin. “Good Lord.”

“It’s not like there’s anything else we can do besides wait” Tim shrugs.

“No, not you, but I may have something” Jon says, “I was hoping we wouldn’t have to use it if we gave her enough time, but I’m starting to believe that Sasha doesn’t understand that she needs to make her choice.”

“What? There’s something that can be done?” the man with the sunglasses says incredulously, before his tone turns angry. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“Because it’s not guaranteed that it would work” Jon explains patiently, trying to keep his own temper in check at the other man’s harshness. He _really_ doesn’t want to go back to how Tim treated him before the Unknowing. “I was hoping to use it as a last resort; I say we wait a couple more days-”

“No, no more waiting” Tim declares, there’s a fire to his words and Martin it’s almost relieved to hear it. “Tell me what it is, what does she need? I will do it, just tell me.”

“Like I said, it’s nothing you can do, but if you do want me to- look, Tim, I know you’re worried, so am I, but I need to be sure before I do it or I may make matters worse. I know I’m asking for something very hard, not only that you wait, but that you trust me.”

“No- I- I trust you… I just… I need her to be okay, Jon”, his voice cracks on the last word, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost her…”

“You won’t lose her, not on my watch, but I need you to wait… two days, let’s give her two more days, if she doesn’t wake up on her own by then, well…”

“What are you going to do?” Martin inquires, causing Tim to turn to look at him, as if just remembering he is there too.

“What I do best, I will _pull some strings._ ”

* * *

Elias stares into the dying flames of the fireplace, reclining in his favourite armchair and holding a glass of expensive whisky in hand, he has been revaluating certain plans lately. Next to him, in the end table is a leather-bound notebook with yellowed pages and a fountain pen, even after all these years he finds in paper a more comfortable place to write down his ideas and thoughts.

Leaving his whiskey in the small table, he reaches for the notebook again, on the last page lays a detailed list of Smirke’s fourteen and at least three entities are crossed out, yes, he had hoped he would be able to cross them faster, but Elias is nothing if not a patient man.

He has plans involving a certain miss by the name of Sasha James, who, if everything goes according to plan, should wake up soon from her coma and if she does not… well, he has taken certain _precautions_ should a tragedy like that occur, but until he is proven otherwise he will have to work under the assumption that his Archivist will open her eyes again.

There’s a page on his notebook that has four pictures, one of his Archivist and one for each of her assistants. Martin hadn’t been a decision of his, but rather his husband’s due to a _wager_ they both have. He allowed it nonetheless; he let his husband believe he had the advantage just because the one he has chosen was his own nephew.

Martin and Tim do not pose a threat to his plans, he is sure. No, but Jon… Jon worries him. He knew it was risky, letting a servant of The Web into his institute, but it is never a good idea to cross The Spider, plus, he may need her _assistance_ in the coming times. So, he allowed Jon to run freely around his institute and did not protest when Sasha requested him as one of her assistants, or when the archives turned into a blind spot like the surrounding tunnels, he knows they’re all probably planning something, but alas, he is not afraid, they can plan all they want, but any half-baked scheme that Jon comes up with cannot equal to his own decades of planning.

Jon may have been raised to take Raymond’s mantle and become the new Puppeteer, but that doesn’t mean he will be strong enough to go against the Watcher himself. No, no, Jon is an amateur compared to him, a stupid little child playing with what he doesn’t understand. Jonathan Sims Fielding doesn’t stand a chance against him.

The fire finally goes out, bringing him back from his thoughts, and a cold fog fills the room, despite the sudden drop in temperature, Elias does not shiver, instead, he waits until the heavy footsteps make their way to his armchair and he smiles at the man that owns them.

“Welcome home, my dear husband.”

* * *

Tim walks that hospital hall that reeks of disinfectant and it’s _too_ damn bright for his photosensitive eyes towards Sasha’s room. He has made this walk over and over, uncountable times during these two months, today is the second day, maybe tomorrow Jon would do the thing he promised he would do.

As he keeps walking, his eyes, meet the black eyes of a Goth-looking black man with dreadlocks that seems familiar. He smiles and nods in his direction. He nods back, even if he has no idea who he is.

It’s just a couple of steps later that he freezes mid-step and looks over his shoulder, because he now recognises that the man was Oliver Banks, _The Coroner_ , avatar of The End. He resumes his walking a bit faster than before until he reaches Sasha’s room, where Jon and Martin are looking around for something, unaware of him standing at the door.

“Did you find it?” he hears Jon voice as the man looks underneath a table.

“No, it’s not up here!” Martin answers, standing on his tiptoes to peek over a cupboard.

“What are you two doing?” he questions.

The silence that follows is enough for Tim to hear it: _the whirring of a tape recorder_ , he hurries to the side of Sasha’s bedside and tries to follow the sound, eventually finding it beneath the hospital bed.

“You found it!” Martin cheers.

“What is it doing here?” What does this sudden tape recorder _mean_? What did Banks do? Does this mean she will wake up soon?

“That’s actually a really good question…”

The three men turn to the woman in the hospital bed, whose eyes are now open and her lips no longer show a thin line but rather a soft smile. The next few moments are a flurry of movements, Jon leaves to go get a nurse and Martin leaves to fetch Sasha some water, because she expressed being thirsty. Tim is already texting Melanie with the good news and to _please_ let the others know, he also texts Dean and Stella to come as soon as they’re able. Once all of that is done, he focuses on her and her alone; he has waited so long for this…

“Did we do it? Did we…?” she looks at the door Martin closed on his way out and then back at him. “Did we stop it? Did we… avenge Danny?”

He can’t help the chuckles that escape him or the tears either, Sasha is awake, she is alive, she is here… and the first thing she worries about it’s his brother, because she is incredible and selfless like that.

“Yes, Sasha, yes we did it.”

* * *

Sasha has to stay in the hospital for a few weeks so the doctors can make sure she’s truly okay after being comatose for two months. She’s mostly bored, with having to stay in bed, the doctors are perplexed at how easily she is recuperating, at first she couldn’t even get up from bed, which was expected, but the very next day she found an envelope sealed with cobwebs in the bottom of the tray that a very kind nurse had brought her food in, it contained a statement from the archives, a statement about _zombies_ , which _very funny, Jon_. He just knows it’s _his_ doing, even if he denies it. He is a terrible liar.

She has busied herself by making a schedule for her friends to visit her so it’s less troublesome for everyone. She also likes knowing who is visiting today. Today the calendar Stella has brought her says _Martin!_ in the redhead’s handwriting, and tomorrow is Melanie’s turn if the little knife drawn on the next square is any indication. She loves Martin’s visits; he always brings her a thermos of hot tea and a bright smile just as warm.

However, when the redhead comes through the door, his expression is glum and he is not dressed in one of his beloved pastel coloured jumpers, but rather a dull black suit. He looks like hasn’t slept pretty well.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks, severely concerned as Martin sits next to her, leaving a thermos on her bedside, it’s small with cute cartoon cats on it. When Sasha takes it, it’s barely warm.

“Yeah, sorry about the tea, had to make it quiet early and it must be cold by now”, he smiles and she can clearly see it’s a forced smile.

“Martin, _what’s going on_?”

“I just came from my mum’s funeral” he blinks, “wha-? Sasha!”

“I’m so sorry!!” she exclaims, hands reaching towards him but not yet touching him. “I’m sorry for compelling you and for… oh, god, Martin…” she trails off, realising what has happened, she offers her hands and her friend takes them without hesitation, eyes full of tears. She pulls him closer until he is close enough that she can wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him tight. “I’m here for you.”

“Th-Thank you, Sa-Sasha” he stutters as she caresses his hair.

They stay that way for some time, she can feel Martin quietly weeping in her shoulder (luckily she has been allowed to wear her own flannel pyjamas instead of the horrendous hospital gown she woke up in), Sasha can feel her own vision blurring with unshed tears, as she murmurs into her friend’s hair.

“I know how you feel…, I lost my mum too some years ago. She was sick.”

They part and Martin stares at her, it’s a stare full of sympathy and relief, full of _understanding_. She usually doesn’t talk about her mother, or her older sister for that matter, mostly because she hates when people _pity_ her, but she knows that it won’t be the case with Martin, and it is knowledge that she is sure comes from her heart, not from whatever she has Become.

“Really?” he asks, shyly, cheeks still wet, before realising what he has said and blushing slightly. “Sorry, that’s so rude-”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Can… can you tell me about her? What was her name?”

“Her name was Elsa and I can indeed tell you about her, but only if you later tell me about your mum…, if you’re ready for that, of course.”

Martin thinks that over for a moment, then he smiles at Sasha, the woman is relieved to find that, albeit small, this is a _real_ smile.

“I would like that.”

* * *

_Did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry? And I’m sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right, my little Versailles…_

Martin writes almost frantically, not really caring that most of it won’t be legible later on, he just needs to get the thoughts _out_ of his mind. He is sitting on a bench in the courtyard of the institute around the time of lunch break and he is not particularly hungry.

His mum’s funeral was a quiet affair, not many people attended, an old friend of hers even commented that she must have been a very _lonely_ woman and he had wanted to laugh at the irony, but he didn’t have the energy. Usually, she would have been buried in the Lukas burial ground, either in the graveyard or the mausoleum, but she had protested this while still alive, stating very clearly that she wouldn’t be associated with _that family_ , as if the Lukases hadn’t been the ones paying for her treatment, not that she knew that, Martin made sure she didn’t (he feared she would reject both the treatment and the care home accommodations if she really knew where the money came from), but he always thought that she suspected, just like she suspected that he met with Odeta behind her back as well.

_The hospital asked should the body be cast before I say goodbye, my star in the sky. Such a funny thought, to wrap you up in cloth, do you find it all right, my dragonfly? Shall we look at the moon, my little loon? Why do you cry? Make the most of your life-_

He turns when someone pulls out one of his earphones, and finds Jon resting his forearm on the back of the wooden bench, he is smiling at him. He came back to the archives almost as soon as he was discharged from the hospital, enough protests from both Annabelle and Martin did earned a couple of days off and a threat from Daisy to send him back in there if he didn’t listen earned another full week.

“Have you eaten?”

“What? Ah, no, I’m not hungry.”

“Hm, too bad, we’re going to go get lunch then, come on” Martin blinks at him, “don’t look at me like that, Blackwood, it is only fair. You had reminded me a lot of times before to leave my work and eat, now I’m doing the same for you, let’s go.”

“Alright” he manages to say, putting his phone, notebook and earphones away on his bag and then follows Jon back into the institute’s entrance, where Tim and Melanie seem to be having a debate.

“ _The Shadow?_ ” she offers.

“Hm, nah, that’s too cliché.”

“ _The Smoke Maker_ , then, how is that? _”_

“King, stop being Goth for a darn second”, he chides teasingly, making the woman frown, and then he spots Martin and Jon, “oh, hey, you two, there you are, ready to go?” Jon nods. “Great, we were just discussing what title should I bear, you have any suggestions?”

“Why _The Smoke Maker,_ though?” the redhead questions instead. “Seems like an oddly specific one.”

Tim smiles one of those smiles of his, those that seem to be back to full brightness now that Sasha James herself is awake and aware, and promises to _show him_ later when they’re back at the archives, for now, they go out for lunch.

* * *

Once back on the archives, Martin reminds Tim of what he told him before the meal and the other man smirks and removes the leather glove covering his right hand, before holding up his palm for the redhead to see. Tim’s fingers are blackened, but not in a way that would suggest disease or something similar, but as if he had stuck his fingers in a very deep paint or ink, staining them, there are also some splotches over the palm and the back of it.

“This is my mark”, he says proudly, “the mark of The Dark, the one that made me Become.”

“But… how?” he asks, unsure.

“Promise you won’t get mad?”

“Why would I?”

“Uh, just wait until you hear me”, Tim leaves out a tired sigh. “Let’s just say, I kind of overheard a conversation I wasn’t supposed to…”

“Haven’t you mother taught you _not_ to do that, Tim?”

The four of them turn towards the staircase, where Sasha James herself is standing. They quickly welcome her, even though both Martin and Jon remind her that just because she has been discharged from the hospital doesn’t mean she is completely healed and still needs to rest for a few more days. Sasha assures them that she is not coming back just yet.

“So, what were you going to show them?” Sasha asks, careful to keep the compulsion of the Archivist out of her voice. “And what happened to your hand?”

Everyone falls silent at that, Martin looks at the others and Jon meets his gaze, while Melanie is looking at Tim, who is looking everywhere but Sasha, it seems they all have assumed that either the newest avatar of the flock told her about his new state or that she somehow found about it with her own newfound powers.

“Ah… I guess it is better if I talk to you… in private” here he looks at their friends and they nod, before he gently takes Sasha by the arm to take her into her own office.

The others settle on the break room, Martin sets to prepare the tea by starting the kettle, Melanie sprawls in the couch with her feet over the cushions and an arm over the armrest while Jon takes a seat on one of the chairs at their tiny table.

“Bets on how _that_ is going to go?” the avatar of the Slaughter suggests, making the two men with her wince, and she rolls her eyes in response. “Alright, be like that.”

Meanwhile in the office of the Head Archivist, Sasha has chosen to lean on her desk, quickly explaining to Tim that after spending so much time in bed she has taken to be standing or moving as much as she is able. He remains standing as well as he retells what he has already told their friends, that now he is like them, that he pledged himself to a patron, and then he tells her things he hasn’t told the others…

“I may not be the same person I was before your coma, Sasha.”

She ponders this for a second, before nodding and offering him her hands, which he immediately takes.

“I don’t think I’m the same person either, Tim, if I am a person at all, even” she looks at their joined hands, and then at his face again. “Why don’t we start again?” she lets go of his hand and offers one hand of her own instead. “I’m Sasha James, avatar of the Eye and proud bearer of the title of Archivist.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Archivist; I’m Tim Stoker, avatar of the Dark, title pending. If it’s not _too_ forward, are you free for coffee, Archivist?” Sasha burst into laughter, as Tim pulls her closer, hugging her close. “I missed you so, so much, Sash.”

“I missed you too, Tim” she answers, hugging tight and hiding her face in his shoulder, “and, just so you know, the Archivist is very much free to go for a coffee.”

After a while, they untangle from each other and head out the office to join their friends in the breakroom, Sasha takes a seat on the couch and Tim sits between her and Melanie, resting his arms on the back of the couch.

“So, Tim has put me up to date with some stuff, so now he gets to show off” she declares before turning towards the man, “Tim?”

Tim extends his marked hand forward and wiggles his fingers; after barely a few seconds of this a soft almost unnoticeable smoke starts to come off them. The man smiles proudly when his friends either gasp in surprise, he doesn’t have to look to know that was Martin, hum thoughtfully, that one was Jon, or let out appreciative whistles, like in Melanie’s and Sasha’s cases.

“I’m not sure how I am exactly doing it” he admits, “and I can’t do it for a long time either? I get a bit numb if I do, kind of like when you sleep on your arm and you wake up and feel all pins and needles? Like that but only on my fingers”, he stops and the smoke, that has turned nearly blackish in colour disappears almost as soon as he does so, “still cool, though, right?”

Jon stares thoughtfully at Tim’s hand for a few seconds, before staring directly at him.

“I think it’s time” he says, drawing everyone’s attention back to himself, “there’s a little something I have been meaning to talk to you three about.”

The avatar of the Web thinks that, if this was a movie, that would have been a _great_ moment for the screen to dramatically fade to black, but alas, Jon is not in a movie and he is still in the breakroom with his friends under the curious stares and Melanie’s smirk, since she is the only one in the archives aside from himself who knows, or knows part of it, at least.

“Finally updating them on your evil plans?” she suggests.

Tim gasps dramatically.

“We’re officially at the: _we tell each other our evil schemes_ stage of our friendship, oh, happy day!” this makes Martin, Melanie and Sasha laugh, Jon just rolls his eyes, but Tim can see a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth. “So, do you want to have this conversation here or in the tunnels?”

“I’m afraid that neither, Tim, this is a very sensitive conversation that I would rather _not_ have in the institute, but I figured I could tell you a few details about what… _helping me_ entails. It’s not really a _glamorous_ plan by any means and I can promise that you won’t have to do anything that goes against your… moral compass. It’s a sort of _you help me then I help you_ kind of deal. You see, not many avatars would associate with _my kind_ because of our nature, but I assure you-”

“You _still_ think we don’t trust you” Martin interrupts, his shoulders slumping, “I mean, you know I can’t speak for everyone, but _I_ trust you, Jon, and I trust that I can go to you when I have questions about our world and- oh-”, he blushes a soft pink, stopping, “the offer… doesn’t extend to me, does it? I’m not fully an avatar.”

“Oh, Martin, that choice it’s up to you, but even if you don’t chose to Become, you’re still welcome to join us” the redhead is only _a little_ ashamed to admit that the way Jon smiles as he explicitly extends the invitation makes his heart beat wildly and a silly little smile show up in his face.

“Alright, I’m just not sure exactly how useful can I be.”

“I mean, you’re the one who came up with the plan to get Elias locked away while the rest of us went to stop the Circus” Tim reminds him, “yeah, we couldn’t go through with it, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t great.”

“We could use someone with your political power, though” Melanie offers as she gets up from the couch, seeing that her work here is done.

“Political power?” he repeats, “I’m afraid you have the wrong man, miss King, I don’t really have any influence on any decision my family takes” he turns to the man with the spider tattoo, “but I’m more than willing to help in any other way you may need, Jon.”

“It’s settled, then, oh, and if you’re okay with it, we have a calendar for the, ah, meals?” he says, taking a pen and a small notepad out of the breast pocket of his dress shirt, he clicks the pen open. “Another rule we have is that _no one_ eats alone, safety in numbers and all that.”

“Cool, _who do I go with_?” Sasha asks, unable to keep the compulsion out of her voice due to her excitement.

“Your abilities for obtaining information could be useful for me” he says, before smiling at her with fondness as he chides her, “but do try to control it, Sasha”.

“Sorry, sorry! I just feel like I have been invited to a cool secret club or something!” she admits giddily, which makes Tim smile at her. “We’re meal buddies, then? Wait, how do _you_ eat? You don’t go around _Carlos Vittery-ing_ people, right?” Jon huffs a laugh.

“Oh, no, none of that, I’ve told you before, I like blackmail.”

“I see. Hey, do you think the Beholding will care about how the cursed knowledge is obtained? I’m only asking because I can probably use my computer to get you a lot of the information you need.”

“I myself mostly work from my laptop for this, so we should try”, Tim raises his hand, and Jon points at him with his pen, as if allowing him to talk, “yes, Tim?”

“I don’t know how to… eat, what do I do? Will I know when the time comes or something like that?”

“Hm, I’m not sure myself, I honestly haven’t met an avatar of The Dark before you Became one, tell you what, we will check that box of statements Martin, you and I compiled for that one kidnapping case Daisy and Basira had, we will try and see if we can find anything useful.”

“Tea is ready!” Martin announces, handing Jon one of his mugs, the one with the cute black cat playing with a turquoise ball of yarn.

“Thanks” he takes the mug and gets up, “if you would excuse me, I will go call my sister to arrange a few things.”

* * *

**[Group chat Avatars of London]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** Alright, everybody say bye to Tim.

 **Forsaken Prince:** Byeee, hope you enjoy the kayaking trip <3

 **Slaughterer:** Keep thotting it up, King

 **Archivist:** Sexiest man in the archive, sad to see you go <3

 **Distortion:** Amen to that. Press F to pay respects.

 **Boneturner:** ???

 **Lightning Bolt:** Is Tim okay?

 **Weaver (Admin):** Oh, my god, did he die??

 **Huntress:** when the hell did he die?

 **Living Fire:** I literally talked to him two days ago??

 **Death touch:** what? _@Puppeteer_ , Jon? Please, explain.

 **Detective:** Jon??

 **Distortion:** huh, I think he is dead too.

 **Boneturner:** Mike is not that lucky

 **Lightning Bolt:** hey, fuck you, Jared

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** I’m here, I’m fine. Anna got worried and she ran full sprint from her room to the kitchen to see if I was okay and she sent my phone flying through the air in the process.

 **Weaver (Admin):** I am a concerned sister! I thought your friend died and you needed a hug! Also _@Distortion,_ don’t even joke with that!

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** it’s much appreciated, princess, but also…

**[Puppeteer has muted Lightning Bolt]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** You know the rules, no cursing, and especially not at the others; you don’t get a pass just because you’re courting my sister. You’re in time out.

 **Coroner:** Not to play devil’s advocate…

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** you want to go keep him company, Oliver?

 **Coroner:** No, thanks. Anyways, what happened to Tim?

 **Distortion:** _@Weaver (Admin)_ , it’s just a joke, Annabelle-darling! We all know Oliver would never without taking him to dinner first!

 **Coroner:** I was going to contradict you, but I can’t say that you’re wrong. When are you free for dinner, _@Puppeteer_?

 **Weaver (Admin):** Oliver Antonio Thomas Blake Pritchard Banks! What have I told you about flirting with my older brother!

 **Huntress:** why does he have so many names?

 **Coroner:** If you want me to stop, then stop having a cute older brother.

 **Fuck-the-Circus:** Oh, Jon, I didn’t know you were this popular with the gentlemen!

 **Living fire:** the fuck

 **Weaver (Admin):** !!!

 **Boneturner:** HE LIVES.

 **Fuck-the-Circus:** Hello, everyone! Thanks for the worrying, but I am fine, I will be leaving London today, I’m going on a self-discovery trip.

 **Weaver (Admin):** Oh, you should have seen my friends from the girls’ boarding school; they were all heads over heels for Jon and his bad boy aesthetic. Also, I’m happy for you, hope you had fun!

 **Fuck-the-Circus:** No way! Miss Fielding, spill the beans!

 **Weaver (Admin):** Yep! It was when we went back to Oxford, when Jon started uni! _@Death Touch_ , Georgie, I need you to know you were used as an excuse that broke a _lot_ of hearts.

 **Death Touch:** Cool.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** That’s _not_ how that happened.

 **Weaver (Admin):** It totally is! But Tim brings interesting information, _@Fuck-the-circus_ , you know someone aside from Oliver that is trying to court my brother? I need more info, please.

 **Archivist:** Hm, sounds shady.

 **Weaver (Admin):** It’s okay, I just want to talk. Also, why do you worry? Do you know this person that feels they’re worthy of my brother’s affections?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Can we change the subject?

 **Archivist:** I’m the Archivist, I know stuff.

 **Weaver (Admin):** Meaning?

 **Archivist:** Alright, fine, I do know him ;)

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Can we _please_ change the subject?

 **Slaughterer:** No, suffer.

 **Weaver (Admin):** !!! Him?? This _really_ narrows it down, thank you, Sasha.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** This is unnecessary!

 **Forsaken Prince:** Uh, actually, sorry, on a different topic: can you add Micah and Natty now, Jon?

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Yeah, can do. Send me their numbers?

 **Forsaken Prince:** On it.

**[Puppeteer (Admin) has unmuted Lighting Bolt]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** You’re off the hook, but behave or it’s going to go badly for you.

 **Lightning Bolt:** Yes, sir.

 **Weaver (Admin):** You’re so mean to Mikey, Jon </3

**[Puppeteer (Admin) has added Micah and Natty]**

[ **Puppeteer (Admin) has changed Micah’s name to _Duchess_ ]**

**[Puppeteer (Admin) has changed Natty’s name to _Heiress_ ]**

**Puppeteer (Admin):** Welcome, Natalia, Micaela, I’m Jon, we met at the archives.

 **Puppeteer (Admin):** Everyone introduce yourselves, please.

 **Weaver (Admin):** Oh, more people, this is going to be great! This chat was so dead it was in Oliver’s domain!

* * *

Tim adjusts the strap of his backpack as he walks towards the port. There’s a ship that will take him far away from London. He had been investigating along with his friends, but no amount of information seemed enough, there were still missing pieces, they had read so much that Sasha probably got the statement equivalent to a twelve course banquet out of the deal!

The ship is already waiting in the port. It’s not a passenger’s one, but a cargo ship instead. He arranged to get a job for the duration of the ten day trip, a part of him was worried about getting sick, but Jon assured him that, unlike Sasha, he is not tied to the institute, none of them are. Not as long as they serve a different entity and Tim couldn’t have gone further from The Beholding’s path by choosing The Dark, also known as Mr. Pitch, also known as The Forever _Blind_.

The problem is that no one in the group knows how to manage a Dark avatar. Jon explained to him, the help he offers it’s not a one-time kind of deal, the team is there for any needs it’s members may need. That’s how they found Mike, he was a newly avatar at the time, much like Tim is now. Apparently, Mike was known for having several encounters with the entities and was also _hunting books_. Gerry crossed him a couple times and introduced him to Jon. Tim doesn’t know the details, but he knows that his friend’s first meeting with the man that would become his sister’s boyfriend involved a certain hunter with the name of a flower, so it probably wasn’t pretty.

He wasn’t lying when he said it was a self-discovery trip, with Nikola dead and the Circus defeated, he has avenged Danny, he feels like he has fulfilled his purpose, so now what?

First things first, he needs to learn to control his new powers, and it seems the only person who can help him is in a remote little research town by the name of Ny-Alesund. With a bit of luck he should be able to blend in with his Anthropology degree while he looks for the other avatar. He knows there’s a possibility he may not be coming back to the institute, Elias may not have kicked Jon out of the premises simply for being Web, but he may draw the line at Dark, not that The Watcher himself knows anything about Tim’s recent Becoming. He wants to stay as close as he is able; he needs to protect Sasha and the others, after all.

He had said his goodbyes to everyone in person, so the farewell on the group chat came as a surprise, but there’s something else occupying his mind today. There’s a name that has Tim worried: Callum Brodie. There’s not really anything helpful about it in the files he has read, but maybe he should do something about him when he gets back to London.

His phone rings twice by the time he is putting some stuff on the cabin he will be occupying during the trip, even if it would have been amazing to forget his troubles with some kayaking, but he is going to _Norway_ of all places, so he didn’t bring his kayak. Instead, he stuck with the basics. His mother didn’t want him to leave the UK so soon after the whole ordeal, she only got a _really_ watered down version of what’s going on, of course, but he assured her it would be fine.

 _‘You have two messages from: **Grumpy Cat** ’_, the touchscreen reads. He smiles at the contact name that belongs to Jon, he had thought about changing it to _Grumpy Spider_ after his friend came out of the supernatural closet (Martin is the one who came up with that phrase and he loves it, he will use it _forever_ ), but this nickname does bring a lot of fond memories from when they were in Research.

**_Grumpy Cat:_ ** _If we’re lucky, this will reach you before you lose signal, check your bank account. Take it as a farewell gift._

Tim obliges and finds that _somehow_ his bank account now shows a number well up in the six figures, he wants to text Jon back, saying something along the lines of ‘ _thanks, but how the fuck’_ , but there’s still a second message.

 ** _Grumpy Cat:_** _Elias is giving you a bonus, not that he is aware of it, mind you, but it should be written down in the same paper that says your trip expenses are covered by the Institute. Have fun in Norway, see you soon._

And Tim can’t help but to laugh at that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright! The first instalment is done! What an eventful chapter we just had!
> 
> Before anyone says, “Jon wouldn’t listen to My Chemical Romance”, please assume is Gerry’s fault and leave it at that. I may have been slightly mean to Martin in this one but I can promise you the sun will come out for him in the next part of the series, especially regarding a certain spider. Also, yes, Jon committed fraud for Tim, because that’s what friends do.
> 
> So, before biding you all a farewell, I want to thank you for:
> 
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> 
> See you on the other side!
> 
> **Cobwebs on the archives will return… November 15 th**


End file.
